So your old man went and called you a degenerate bum 
And you stood there crackin' on your cinnamon gun 
And your Ma was knockin' at your sister's brains 
And you couldn't help thinkin' what she hoped to gain 

Just then that freak walked in the door 
And knocked me to the floor 
You said, hey man, you're on some kind of trip 
He said, don't give me no lip 

Just turn it down, come on turn it down 
I can't take no more of that God awful sound 
So for God's sake turn it down 

Now the suspicious minds of your learned friends 
Will eat away at your kind 'til the music ends 
And the creep that taught you everything you know 
Will hypocritically ask you what the hell you know 
He'll go out and mess around, then go home without a sound 
You said, hey man, you're some kinda monk 
He said, listen here you punk 

Just turn it down, come on turn it down 
I can't take no more of that God awful sound 
So for God's sake turn it down 

Turn it down, just turn it down 
Come on turn it down, I said turn it down 
Come on turn it down, just turn it down 
I can't take no more of that God awful sound 
So for God's sake turn it down