City slickers, gold diggers know no right or wrong,
Cashbox hearts who'd sell their souls for a song,
Fame-struck madness, hitch your wagon to a star,
In search for treasure island, stealing other's thunder.

Said, Hey, get out of my sun, go bang a different drum,'
Said, Hey, get out of my sun.

Pack of wolves bites the hands that feeds them, flattery of foolers,
Give them an inch they're gonna make themselves a ruler,
Ain't no dreams for sale, I don't know what you might have heard,
Gonna read the facts of life: we all get what we deserve,
They all want glory, no-one wants to pay the price,
Yet there ain't nothing given so freely as advice,
Through blood, sweat and tears is how I made my claim to fame, not standing in the shadows of another person's name.

Said, Hey, get out of my sun, go bang a different drum,'
Said, Hey, get out of my sun, I'm paid until time is done.

Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun, (he, he, he, he)
Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun, (you better get out)
Out of my sun. (you better get out)

Said, Hey, get out of my sun, go bang a different drum,'
Said, Hey, get out of my sun, I'm paid until time is done,
Said, Hey, get out of my sun, go bang a different drum,'
Said, Hey, get out of my sun.