Overprotected Blues

Politicians they are vowing, the way they often do,

To enact new legislation for protectin’ me & you:

It’s gonna be illegal now to smoke stuff in your bed,

You will surely be arrested if they come and find you dead.

Lord, have mercy—I got the overprotected blues.

Yeah those gov’ment regulations—givin’ me the overprotected blues.

Well, I’m protected from myself, I’m protected from the Mob;

I’m protected from the terrorists and from every drunken slob;

My warnin’ label tells me, “You better watch it, Bub,”

Gonna get yourself electrocuted, with that blow-dryer in the tub.”

Lord, have mercy—I got them overprotected blues.

Yes, this list of stipulations just gives me the overprotected blues.

I got special safety stickers on the bottom of my shoes;

That tell me not to step in oil, or my balance I might lose.

And banana peels could get ya too, kinda’ make your backbone slip;

I guess I’ll put some golf spikes on, just to keep my grip—

I tell you it just ain’t easy, Baby—overprotected blues.