|
I t is what it is and not what it seems
‘cause I’m a prisoner of my own dreams.
I can see the flash of my fleshy body,
screwing the drivers in a first class lobby
means nothing but snobby, - snobby, snob, snob -
‘cause that my hobby and that’s my job.
I’m living in a shop right underneath
the cargo to down under, the ticket to ride,
you’re bounded to your sake - smooth and tight.
Will you be my baby; will you be my bride?
Will you be my baby only tonight?
Forget the freaky people because they rule already,
forget the pity petting; be able to be steady,
steady like a stone or like your music bone.
I’m singing straight and loud right into your phone:
Baby come around, I don’t like to be alone!
|
