California Couldn't Pay Our Education
words and music by Roy Zimmerman
© 1993 Watunes
(From "Folk Heroes" [Metaphor], "What's Left," and "The Best of the Foremen")

Our blood runs blue, we're loyal men and true
The hope of a new generation
But we don't speak too well, we can't read or add or spell
California couldn't pay our education

Our rooms each fall were crowded wall to wall
Resplendent in squalid privation
And our texts were first-rate back in 1958
California couldn't pay our education

And three years on, when they noticed we were gone
They showered us with consideration
And they transferred our files to the hall of juveniles
California couldn't pay our education

Now we've got great jobs; I stock the salad bar at Bob's
And I polish knobs at Union Station
And I practice law... la la la la la la la
California couldn't pay our education

The proprietor of our local liquor store
Refused our request for a donation
But we changed his mind with a crowbar from behind
California couldn't pay our education

They locked us away for three years and a day
Completing our alienation
But we learned from those men how to not get caught again
California finally paid our education