Oh, well we're big rock singers.
  We got golden fingers.
  And we're loved everywhere we go.
  We sing about beauty,
  And we sing about truth
  At ten thousand dollars a show.
  We take all kinds of pills
  To give us all kind of thrills,
  But the thrill we ain't never known
  Is the thrill that'll getcha
  When you get your picture
  On the cover of the Rollin' Stone.
  
  
  Rollin' Stone...
  Wanna see my picture on the cover.
  Stone...
  Wanna buy five copies for my Mother.
  Stone...
  Wanna see my smiling face
  On the cover of the Rollin' Stone.
  
  I got a freaky old lady
  Name o' Cocaine Katy
  Who embroiders all my jeans.
  Got my poor old grey-haired daddy
  Drivin' my limousine.
  It's all designed to blow our minds,
  But our minds won't really get blown
  Like the blow that'll getcha
  When you get your picture
  On the cover of the Rollin' Stone.
  
  Rollin'Stone . . .
  Wanna see my picture on the cover.
  Stone...
  Wanna buy five copies for my Mother.
  Stone...
  Wanna see my smiling face
  On the cover of the Rollin' Stone.
  
  
  
  We gotta lotta little teenage blue-eyed groupies
  Who do anything we say.
  We got a genuine Indian guru
  Who's teaching us a better way.
  We got all the friends that money can buy,
  So we never have to be alone.
  And we keep getting richer,
  But we can't get our picture
  On the cover of the Rollin' Stone!
  
  Rolling Stone...
  Wanna see my picture on the cover.
  Stone...
  Wanna buy five copies for my Mother.
  Stone...
  Wanna see my smiling face
  On the cover of the Rolling Stone.
  
  (Spoken : Oh man . .
  I can see it now . . .
  we'll be on the front man
  smilin ' - oh , beautiful !)