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1 2 3, 2 2 3 |
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The twitching impulses to speak your mind |
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I'll lend you my microscope and maybe you will find it |
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Is it in that ugly place that's just behind your face |
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Where you keep my picture still despite the fact |
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That you had me replaced |
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Say, "Goodbye", baby can't you act your age? |
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You know why I'm going to give it to you straight |
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Although I'll never be unhappy as you want me to be |
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Still it's all the rage |
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I'll probably play along left to my own devices |
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Spare me the drone of your advice |
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The sins of garter and gin confession may delay |
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You know the measuring pole the merry boots of clay |
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I've heard it all before you'll say it anyway |
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Say, "Goodbye", baby can't you act your age? |
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You know why I'm going to give it to you straight |
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Although I'll never be unhappy as you want me to be |
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Still it's all the rage |
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Alone with your tweezers and your handkerchief |
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You murder time and truth, love, laughter and belief |
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So don't try to touch my heart, it's darker than you think |
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And don't try to read my mind because it's full of disappearing ink |
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Say, "Goodbye", baby can't you act your age? |
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You know why I'm going to give it to you straight |
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Although I'll never be unhappy as you want me to be |
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Still it's all the rage |
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Although I'll never be unhappy as you want me to be |
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Still it's all the rage |
