|
He's got secular joy |
|
He's a peculiar boy |
|
But now the lustre has gone |
|
The peculiar boy is no more |
|
Who'll save him from being a man |
|
Not me |
|
He's got precious youth |
|
But forsaken, forsooth |
|
And now the shine grows dim |
|
Change tradition for whim |
|
Who'll save him from being a man |
|
Not me |
|
He's got clothes all red |
|
All on a purple bed |
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But now the red's in his eyes |
|
He's no longer a prize |
|
Who'll save him from being a man |
|
Not me |
|
He's a peculiar boy |
|
Yes, he's a peculiar boy |
|
But now his skin is slack |
|
He shows a certain lack |
|
Who'll save him from being a man |
|
Not me |
