Well she is a tongue twisting storm, she will come to the show tonight
Praying to the light machine
She wants my honey not my money she~s a funky-thigh collector
Laying on electric dreams
So come on, come on, we~ve really got a good thing going
Well come on, come on, if you think we~re gonna make it
You better hang on to yourself
We can~t dance, we don~t talk much, we just ball and play
But then we move like tigers on vaseline
Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar
You~re the blessed, we~re the spiders from Mars
So come on, come on, we~ve really got a good thing going
Well come on, come on, if you think we~re gonna make it
You better hang on to yourself
So come on, come on, we~ve really got a good thing going
Well come on, come on, if you think we~re gonna make it
You better hang on to yourself
(and the song ends...or whatever...)
A x 0 2 2 2 x
(Note that the lyrics for this song is not the one from the Rykodisc
release of -The Man Who Sold The World-, this is the original)
