| He’s in the bar, he’s in your hair
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| With his sports keyring jangling he’s everywhere
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| He’s in your view, he’s in your face
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| Straight out of the seventies to straight out of place
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| His collars turned up high he’s on top of the world
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| Sliding down the bar he’s always falling, falling
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| With his one good eye he winks at what he thinks is girls
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| Opens toothless grin and then he’s crawling, crawling
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| And I’m a moving, I’m a grooving
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| And I’m a smooching, and he’s a discotheque wreck, yeah!
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| He’s in your sight, he’s in your pocket
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| He’s a superfly guy without a superfly rocket
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| Every night he’s on your case
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| A terrible reality of disco race
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| His collars turned up high he’s on top of the world
|
| Sliding down the bar he’s always falling, falling
|
| With his one good eye he winks at what he thinks is girls
|
| Opens toothless grin and then he’s crawling, crawling
|
| And I’m a moving, I’m a grooving
|
| And I’m a smooching, and he’s a discotheque wreck, yeah!
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| I can mashed potato
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| I can do the twist
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| Tell me baby
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| Do you like it like this
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| When I’m a moving, I’m a grooving
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| And I’m a smooching, and he’s a discotheque wreck, yeah!
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| I’m a moving, I’m a grooving
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| And I’m a smooching, and he’s a discotheque wreck |