You can't always get what you want......

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she was gonna meet her connection
At her feet was footloose man

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you might find
You get what you need

Life is fun, funny. Or so I’ve found. The scene above has happened to me a time or twelve. Ya find one that fits perfectly in that picture frame of wonder you’ve envisioned, but it just ain’t gonna happen. Various reasons. You can’t always get what you want.

I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singing, "We're gonna vent our frustration
If we don't we're gonna blow a 50-amp fuse"

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you just might find
You get what you need

Went to Mickey D’s this morning. Happily, quietly indulged in the humongous Sunday paper. In walks a dad, a five year old boy, and a baby in a basket thingy. Oh hell, the baby’s gonna wail, this won’t be fun. "Vent frustration, blown 50-amp fuse breaks out." Turns out, huh uh - not the baby. The five year old wailed. First, he didn’t get the toy he wanted. I don’t mean justa baby wail.. an ON AND ON wail at an excruciating pitch. After ten continuous minutes, I gave him my best “I’m a grumpy old man, COOL IT you little brat” look, but didn’t help matters. He didn’t get enough syrup for his pancakes… another (long) tirade. Then, he caught glance of the playroom, and the trash can that was blocking it’s entry as the workers cleaned it. Oh shit. Uh uh, you guessed it. I’ve not been a big fan in life of smacking a little one’s little butt, but the repeated tirades, high (pathetic) pitched squeals - coupled with the calmness, serenity of the quiet infant, made me root for dad to smack the five year old’s little butt. Kid, you can’t always get what you want… but sometimes you get what you need.

I went down to the Chelsea drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standing in line with Mr. Jimmy
And man, did he look pretty ill
We decided that we would have a soda
My favorite flavor, cherry red
I sung my song to Mr. Jimmy
Yeah, and he said one word to me, and that was "dead"
I said to him

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You get what you need

You get what you need--yeah, oh baby

As I sat in the booth, feeling sorry for myself in that I don’t presently have everything I want: nifty 401K, that beautamous chick to ride with me in the brand new SUV thingy, the ranch style home (new) on the lake.. I saw in the paper 40 or so “Mr. Jimmy”s that, as of today, are no longer with us. Perhaps life, even though you can’t always get what you want… ain’t so bad.

I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need

Want/need. Interesting Mick. Ok, so no nifty 401K… but, employed, ends meet (kinda-sorta). Beautamous chick nowhere to be found. Well, see ‘em, just ain’t at my side. Tis cool. Two very good marriages, a host of wonderful friends (even some of the chick variety.).. And the 1997 Buick LaSabre with over 200K miles. (Blower fan out, oh shit, winter’s coming.. .but hey, it gets me to work and back. Oh OK, to the Dish and back too). I have a roof over my head, many don’t.

Life is lived with greedy hands outstretched, often coming up empty - but somehow, our needs seem comfortably taken care of.

God I love that song. Please tell me I’m not too old to crank that mother up when it comes on the radio. Love, Victurd.