The girl that writes my taxes they call her Miss Geronimo
The girl that writes my taxes they call her Miss Geronimo
Says you're going to the poor farm
Your booked and you've got to go

It's that social security I just can't take my rest
It's that social security I just can't take my rest
With those penalty clauses like a millstone on my chest

And I'll never see that money, not in my life and time
I'll never see that money, not in my life and time
Every time I think about it, it troubles my worried mind

When I think of Harry Truman it makes me awful mad
He took a real good system and changed it to the bad
Got no money for my parents, got no money for my boys
My money goes to someone else's grandma over in East Peoria, Illinois
Yes they call her Miss Geronimo

[Repeat second verse]

by Peter Spencer © 1984 Weebahd Enterprises ASCAP