Hang On To Yourself
Praying to the light machine
She wants my honey not my money she's a funky-thigh collector
Layin' on 'lectric dreams
CHORUS
So come on, come on, we've really got a good thing going
Well come on, well come on, if you think we're gonna make it
You better hang on to yourself
We can't dance, we don't talk much, we just ball and play
But then we move like tigers on vaseline
Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar
You're the blessed, we're the spiders from Mars
CHORUS (x3)
Come on, ah, come on, ah (repeat ad inf.)