She’s a tongue twisting storm.
She will come to the show tonight,
Praying to the light machine.
She wants my money, not my honey,
She’s a funky thigh collector.
Laying on electric dreams.
So come on, come on,
We’ve really got a good thing going.
Come on, come on,
If you think we’re gonna make it,
You better hang on to yourself.
We can’t dance, don’t talk to much, just ball and play,
But then we move around like tigers on Vaseline.
The bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar,
You’re blessed, we’re the spiders from Mars.
So come on, come on,
We’ve really got a good thing going.
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.
Come on, come on,
If you think we’re gonna make it,
You better hang on to yourself.
.