| Holy man tiptoed his way across the Ganges
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| The sound of magic music in his ears
|
| Videoed by a bus load of tourists
|
| Shiny shellsuits on, and drinking lemonade.
|
| Now, I’ve got a funny feeling which I bought mail order
|
| From a man in a tee-pee, California.
|
| He said he once was the great game show performer
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| Then he blew all his money away,
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| Blew it all away.
|
| So take me home, don’t leave me alone
|
| I’m not that good, but I’m not that bad
|
| No psycho killer, hooligan guerilla
|
| I dream to riot, oh you should try it
|
| R. E. Perot, get gold card soul
|
| My joy of life is on a roll
|
| And we’ll all be the same in the end
|
| Cos then you’re on your own
|
| Then you’re on your own
|
| Well, we all go happy day glow in the discos
|
| The sound of magic music in our brains
|
| Someone stumbles to the bathroom with the horrors
|
| Says Lord, give me faith, for I’ve jumped into space
|
| I’m in outer space.
|
| So take me home, don’t leave me alone
|
| I’m not that good, but I’m not that bad
|
| No psycho killer, hooligan guerilla
|
| I dream to riot, oh you should try it
|
| R. E. Perot, get gold card soul
|
| My joy of life is on a roll
|
| And we’ll all be the same in the end
|
| Cos then you’re on your own
|
| Then you’re on your own
|
| So take me home, don’t leave me alone
|
| I’m not that good, but I’m not that bad
|
| No psycho killer, hooligan guerilla
|
| I dream to riot, oh you should try it
|
| R. E. Perot, get gold card soul
|
| My joy of life is on a roll
|
| And we’ll all be the same in the end
|
| Cos then you’re on your own
|
| Then you’re on your own (to end) |