Lyrics Rick - And One

Rick

Born in the desert of the upper east side,
there was a guy who wants to party every day every night
Dressed like a martin colly,
hair shining bright
He got no money, got no girlfriend
he was feeling alright
Rick
In the jeans with his head on the wall
But too bad he had to wait until its going to fall
And after all he felt as one of the best
The time was right to take a paper car escape to the west
Rick
You crash the party
We are waiting for an answer,
but you think its alright
Rick
Please don’t worry
You’re invited every day
But not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times alright
No doubt about we love you,
not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times alright
No doubt about we love you,
not on Saturday night
He is the God of his computer scene
He wants the cover picture
of the Apple magazine
But in the end he has to face the fact
that even p****s do it better
so he lost respect
If you want him to stay
You have to beg him to pray
Until the end of the day
He is so boring
And he is so Gay-ay-ay
Rick
You crashed the party
We are waiting for an answer
but you think its alright
Rick
Please don’t worry
You’re invited every day
but not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times alright
No doubt about we love you
not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times alright
No doubt about we love you
not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
Oh-oh Oh-oh
So our Rick
is a boy with a harmless toy
and a sawfeet has no beak
He looks like a double of Mr. Hyde
or a dose of stinky meat-BALLS
Everybody knows he’s ready for the job
of the President of Matzan
If you know him look him over
like a homo with a gun
So run cause there’s no fun
If you want him to stay
You have to beg him to pray
Until the end of the day
He is so boring
And he’s so Gay-ay-ay
Rick
You crashed the party
We are waiting for an answer
but you think its alright
Rick
Please don’t worry
You’re invited every day
but not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times allright
No doubt about we love you
not on Saturday night
Oh-oh Oh-oh
We think good times alright
No doubt about we love you
not on Saturday night
So our Rick
is a boy with a harmless toy
and a sawfeet has no beak
He looks like a double of Mr. Hyde
or a dose of stinky meat-BALLS
Everybody knows he’s ready for the job
of the President of Matzan
If you know him look him over
like a homo with a gun
So run cause there’s no fun