|
There she blows, Jacques Cousteau |
|
Hear her sing so sweet and low |
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Lull me overboard, out cold |
|
Gathered in and swallowed whole |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
You just hit me where I live |
|
I guess it looked quite primitive |
|
What was that supposed to prove? |
|
Throw the calf or he'll throw you |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Sucked in by the victim world |
|
Thirsty as a cultured pearl |
|
Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed |
|
It won't hurt if you don't move |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Yeah; Musical chairs, double dares, memorized stairs |
|
Shooting off flares, springtime hares, broken-down mares |
|
Yeah; Cowered phones, big soup stones, prideless loans |
|
Grill-sick crows, motel moans and big fat Jones |
|
Woo woo |
|
Martyrs don't do much for me |
|
Though I enjoy them vicariously |
|
After you, no, after me |
|
No, I insist, please, after me |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Do I want to with all that charm? |
|
Do I want to twist my arm? |
|
Oh do it |
