I need some money to open doors
I won't bend over or lick your paws
You got me red, I'll get me black
My tar town checks come bouncin' back
He wears my suit to make a good impression
He didn't come here for no mad concession
Don't rip me off
'Cause I'm a
Blue chip [Long hair]
Gilted [Weirdo]
Carte blanche, bona fide
18 carat man of means
My joint account goes up in smoke

In the middle of a caravan
On a four wheel drive oasis
There's a man with a thought in mind
To cash in on the desert faces
He's got a truckload of Yorkshire girls
For your harem going places
And the border bums never saw
The guns in the whiskey cases

There's a real, big demand
And it's written in the palm of his hand
He's gonna change the face of the desert
He's gonna sweep away the sand

Here's a new dance that you all can do
Baby, baby, what's he gonna do
Sit back and relax 'cos it's good for you
Baby, baby, what's he gonna do
what's he gonna say
He's takin' my breath away

Well if you're tired of doing the Boogaloo
And you're afraid of doing the Swim
'Cos you think you will drown
In the noise of the record
And the klutz on the floor
He ain't there anymore
'Cos all you wanna do

I'll show you man who walk on fire
And don't get burned
Don't get burned, don't get burned
He don't get burned
I'll show you man who tread on glass
And he don't get cut
Don't get cut, don't get cut
He don't get cut

You can take a knife and slit his throat
And he won't drop dead
Won't drop dead, won't drop dead
He won't drop dead
Been a ju-ju boy for a thousand years
And he ain't cut yet

Down on the casting couch
A star is gonna be born
A star with the stature of a Harlow
Who's doomed
And groomed to enrapture
All her co-stars, and stuntmen, the co-stars
Oh, let there be lights, action, sound
Lights, action, sound - Roll 'em!

Out in the mezzanine
On the arm of a dumb marine
Her beauty looks out like a trailer
Norman Mailer
Waits to nail her
He's under the bed

Hey toots, you put the life into living
You brought a sigh into sight
Ah hon, you make my legs turn to water
You bring the stars out at night
But they ain't half so bright
As your eyes

Gee whiz, you take the beauty out of beautiful
You play the strings of my heart
Oh babe, you take the wonder out of wonderful
Oh my, oh my, and my, if you were mine
The rain would turn to sweet sweet wine

"I'm a clockwork creep
And I can't get to sleep
They wind me up and let me go
And I can't unwind
Going out of my mind
My time is coming soon you know"

Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb

"I'm a jumbo jet
With a brand new set
Of passengers and bags and crew
I'll spread my wings -
Do a thousand things
To prove how good I am to you"

Tick a tick a time bomb

Where are my boys
They are in deepest water
Where are they now
They are over the hill and far away
But they are broken men who lie low
Waiting for miracles

Old men of rock and roll
Came bearing music
Where are they now
They are over the hill and far away
But they're still gonna play guitars
On dead strings, and old drums
They'll play and play to pass the time
The old wild men
Old wild men

On de uber side ob de island
Dere's a sky so clear and blue
Can see, cross water, to de mainland
New life for me and you

Let's buy a hotel
Let's get a yacht
We'll get a golden island
In the sun made of coconut
Let's buy an old car
We'll crash in a hut
We'll feed the food to the Ford
And we'll live off the coconut

Well there's a big black mama
In a tree
She's gonna cook us

It's one thing to know it but another to admit
We're the worst band in the world
But we don't give a....

If Garbo played guitar with Valentino on the drums
Then we'd be nothing more than a bunch of darma bums
So tune up, tune up

Well we've never done a days work in our life
And our records sell in zillions
It irrigates my heart with greed
To know that you adore me
Up yours, up mine

Do the Wall Street shuffle
Hear the money rustle
Watch the greenbacks tumble
Feel the Sterling crumble

You need a yen to make a mark
If you wanna make money
You need the luck to make a buck
If you wanna be Getty, Rothschild
You've gotta be cool on Wall Street

You've gotta be cool on Wall Street
When your index is low
Dow Jones ain't got time for the bums