| Cold, cold, cold
|
| Cold, cold, cold
|
| Freezing, it was freezing in that hotel
|
| I had no money, my special friend was gone
|
| The TV set was busted so she went along
|
| I called room, room service,
|
| I’m down here on my knees
|
| A peach or a pear, or a coconut please,
|
| But they was cold
|
| Well it’s been a month since I seen my girl
|
| Or a dime to make the call
|
| 'Cause it passed me up, or it passed me by,
|
| Or I couldn’t decide at all
|
| And I’m mixed up, I’m so mixed up
|
| Don’t you know I’m lonely
|
| And I wish the world would get off of my case
|
| And get on one of its own
|
| Cold, cold, cold
|
| Cold, cold, cold
|
| That woman was freezing, freezing cold
|
| Well I tried everything to warm her up
|
| Now I’m living in this cold hotel
|
| 'Cause she passed me, up or she passed me by,
|
| Or I couldn’t decide at all
|
| Oh I’m mixed up, yes I’m mixed up
|
| Don’t you know I’m lonely
|
| Of all the things I had to do
|
| I had to fall in love
|
| You know she’s cold
|
| Turn your clock back woman when you see me comin' round
|
| My feet don’t, feet don’t even touch the ground
|
| don’t be cold, don’t be cold
|
| don’t be cold, don’t be cold
|
| Well I was buffalo-ed in Buffalo
|
| And I was entertained in Houston
|
| New York, New York you gotta choose one
|
| It’s a tripe face boogie
|
| Going to boogie my sneakers away yeah yeah
|
| Well I, I don’t want your money
|
| And I don’t want your time,
|
| Please don’t jive me Honey
|
| And I’ll give you, give you back your dime
|
| It’s a hype face boogie
|
| Going to boogie my sneakers away yeah
|
| I don’t dig potato chips
|
| And I can’t take torts (?)
|
| Got to tripe my guacamole baby
|
| It’s quackers and tripe my sauce
|
| It’s a hype face boogie
|
| Going to boogie my scruples away yeah
|
| Hype boogie, hype boogie
|
| All night long…
|
| (Solos)
|
| You bring your guitar
|
| I’ll bring the wine
|
| Gonna tripe my guacamole baby
|
| Just a one more time
|
| It’s a hype face boogie
|
| And I say 'lookout'! |