|
Bitterness becomes you |
|
It goes well with your hair |
|
Just like your sister's earrings |
|
Or that funny little shirt you wear |
|
Now you're holding parties |
|
For the ghosts of a Burgess page |
|
Connoisseur, butterfly collector |
|
You're a living legend in your head |
|
You're so hot |
|
You're so cold |
|
You're so rock'n'roll |
|
You're so close |
|
Too close |
|
Go, go if you want |
|
It's okay |
|
Stay if you must |
|
I don't care anyway |
|
I'm gonna move on |
|
I'm gonna move on |
|
I'm gonna move on out |
|
Star-struck on Quaaludes |
|
A poet on a stake |
|
A substation |
|
A pulp fiction |
|
You just never got the hang of it |
|
You've been bought |
|
And sold |
|
But you still don't know |
|
About rock'n'roll |
|
You're too close |
|
Too close |
|
Go, go if you want |
|
It's okay |
|
Stay if you must |
|
I don't care anyway |
|
I'm gonna move on |
|
I'm gonna move on |
|
I'm gonna move on out |
|
Take a letter Mr. Jones |
|
Close the door, unplug the phones |
|
And if anyone should ask you |
|
Tell them I'm not at home |
|
Oh no, I'm digging up rock'n'roll |
|
And you're close, so close |
|
(Shoop shoop, rock'n'roll) |
|
(Shoop shoop, shoop shoop) |
|
I don't care anyway... |
|
I'm moving right on... |
|
C'mon... |
