Until the Money's Gone | john-allee-official

Hard Sell
Words and music by John Allee

You sell your ass on Hollywood and Vine
She sells subscriptions on the telephone line
He sells baby Jesuses made of wood
I’d sell my mother if I only could
Hard sell, hard sell
Make your pitch
Cast your spell
You’ll be rich as Rockefeller

A guy sells stocks in a three-piece suit
A girl sells flowers and candied fruit
The government’s selling weapons for their secret war
The church is selling bibles from door to door
Hard sell, hard sell
Scratch that itch
Ring that bell
You’ll be rich as Rockefeller

You can sell it on the street with the flim flam jive
You can sell it in the office from nine to five
You can sell it from a podium on Capitol Hill
You can sell it in a market in a bottle in a pill
Hard sell, hard sell
There’s a hitch
But don’t tell and
You’ll be rich as Rockefeller

You can sell it through the mail from a magazine
You can sell it at the drug store to the beauty queen
You can sell it on the television once a week
You can sell it at the circus as a side show freak
Hard sell, hard sell
Bait and switch
Shill the Shell
You’ll be rich as Rockefeller

You sell it to alleviate the national debt
You sell it when your luck is dry to settle a bet
You sell it to send your children away to school
You sell it to build an island in your swimming pool
Hard sell, hard sell
That’s the sitch
Drill a well
You’ll be rich as Rockefeller

He sells it cause it’s the only thing he’s ever known
She sells it cause it’s the only thing she’ll ever own
You sell it cause there’s really nothing else to do
I’d sell my mother wouldn’t you?
Of course you woul