| Lyrics: | Inside every teenage girl is a fountain
Inside every young pair of pants there's a
mountain
Inside every mothers eyes is Tommy Tinkers bed
Inside every candidate waits a
grateful dead
I make it a thing,
when I'm all alone to relieve myself
I make it a
thing,
when I gazelle on stage, to believe in myself
I make it a thing,
to glance in
window panes and feel pleased with myself
Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home
Took it so
bad, I sat in a correction room
Took me a bath, and a kick in the moon
Well, I ain't gonna
suck no radar wing,
because this tin is tin
Would you like techno-plate,
'cause I'm
your candidate
It's a matter of life,
and the way you walk, you got a Brill Cream
queen
It's a matter of tact,
and the things you talk, it keeps his passport clean
A
matter of fact,
that cocking a cock on a twelve inch screen
So I'll pretend I'm walking
home
Don't have to scream a lot
to keep an age in tune
Don't have to scream a
lot
to predict monsoons
You don't have to paint my contract black
Now I've hustled a
pair of jeans
Do I have to give your money back,
when I'm the fuehrer Allene?
I'll
make you a deal,
I say I came from from Earth and my tongue is tape
I'll make you a
deal,
you can set your kicks on the candidate
I'll make you a deal,
for your futures
sake, I'm the candidate
Lets pretend we're walking home
uh-huh, uhhh
I'm the
candidate
I'm the candidate
Vote now for the candidate |
