| Like Jimmy Carter, like electric underwear
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| Like any idea that never had a chance to go anywhere
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| This is who you are, a paid celebrity
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| Who drives off a bridge in a car
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| Your beautiful body filling up with water
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| Like Harry Truman dropping bombs out of the air
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| Like any self-respecting multi-billionaire
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| This is who you are, five dancing teenage boys
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| Who sing their way into our hearts
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| Backstreet’s back, alright
|
| And there’s a toxic cloud hanging over
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| And there’s white noise on the screen
|
| And there’s a man in a hotel room
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| Assaulting a maid who just came to clean up the mess
|
| Backstreet’s back, alright
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| Like Ronald Reagan falling asleep forever more
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| Dreaming of horses and dreaming of nuclear war
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| This is where we are tonight
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| Everybody under surveillance from a satellite
|
| You can be the first one on your block to die
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| And there’s a plague of locusts upon us
|
| And there’s a nightmare in the swarm
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| And there’s a lion out in the desert
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| Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born again
|
| Backstreet’s back, alright
|
| Alright |