| Slim lined sheik faced angel of the night
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| Riding like a cowboys in the graveyard of the night
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| New York witch in the dungeon of the day
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| I’m trying to write my novel but all you do is play
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| Baby Boomerang, baby Boomerang
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| Well, you never spike a person
|
| But you always bang the whole gang
|
| Thank you ma’am
|
| Mince pie dog-eyed eagle on the wind
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| You’re searching through this garbage looking for a friend
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| Your uncle with an alligator chained to his leg
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| Dangles your freedom then he offers you his bed
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| Baby Boomerang, baby Boomerang
|
| Well, you never spike a person
|
| But you always bang the whole gang
|
| Thank you ma’am
|
| It seem to me, to dream is something too wild
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| In Max’s Kansas City, you a belladonna child
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| Riding on the highways, on the gateway to the south
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| You’re talking with your boots and you’re walking with your mouth
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| Baby Boomerang, baby Boomerang
|
| Well, you never spike a person
|
| But you always bang the whole gang
|
| Baby Boomerang, baby Boomerang
|
| Well, you never spike a person
|
| But you always bang the whole gang
|
| Thank you ma’am, yeah |