| Stuck in my beat suede shoes I can’t wait
|
| Oh, what a state to be in
|
| I need her heart and get a jack-jones for my sins
|
| She’s gonna ditch that shining sick machine
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| And be speeding straight my way
|
| But I’m churning in neutral
|
| Turning in a circle
|
| Just like the USA
|
| The secret is silver, it’s to shine and never simply survive
|
| And don’t swallow substitutes and never see second prize
|
| 'Cause I know that my might could change my mind
|
| And I’m told that by rights it’s not my find
|
| I’d be a tribute to temptation
|
| In its glory and its grave
|
| But I’m churning in neutral
|
| Turning in a circle
|
| Just like the USA
|
| The secret is silver, it’s to shine and never simply survive
|
| And don’t swallow substitutes and never see second prize
|
| 'Cause I know that my might could change my mind
|
| And I’m told that by rights it’s not my find
|
| I’d be a tower to your highest hopes
|
| That no southern star could sway
|
| But I’m churning in neutral
|
| Turning in a circle
|
| Just like the USA
|
| I hear those rhyming bells and heed the words they say
|
| And with a string of diamelles I’ll steal her heart away
|
| 'Cause I know that my might could change my mind
|
| And I’m told that by rights it’s not my find
|
| In my star-bangled sailor suit
|
| I’d be the pioneer by day
|
| But I’m churning in neutral
|
| Turning in a circle
|
| Just like the USA |