| Finger on the button
|
| Perspiration on the forehead
|
| Splashing puddles on the keyboard
|
| Jerking sideways, upwards, downwards
|
| Blisters
|
| Spiders sing a tune, you do
|
| You can’t destroy the aliens
|
| Can’t destroy the aliens
|
| It’s painful when you’re doing well
|
| But we keep coming back
|
| But still he tries as missiles fly
|
| His lady keeps complaining
|
| About the lack of conversation
|
| Session’s lasted for a day now
|
| But he won’t give up the fight
|
| You gotta destroy those aliens
|
| Gotta destroy the aliens
|
| It’s painful when he’s doing well
|
| But they keep coming back
|
| Impatiently they brought him food
|
| And forced it down his throat
|
| 'Till he was choking
|
| Dribbled gravy, swiveled crazy
|
| Spacey glimmer in his eyes
|
| Likes to splatter all the aliens
|
| Flatten all the aliens
|
| It’s painful when he’s doing well
|
| Yet still they creep on back
|
| Creeping back for more
|
| Still he won’t give up
|
| Though senators slap him on the back
|
| And snap him with their instamatic
|
| Automatic, jerkomatic
|
| He’s fanatical but ice cool
|
| As he cannons down his aliens
|
| Gotta destroy the aliens
|
| It’s painful when he’s doing well
|
| But still they keep on coming back
|
| His score’s just topped a million
|
| He’s killing them
|
| A winner
|
| Though he’s getting so much thinner
|
| And beginning to see stars
|
| Starts to mutter
|
| Eyelids flutter
|
| On the point of passing out
|
| You gotta destroy the aliens
|
| Gotta destroy the aliens
|
| It’s painful when he’s doing well
|
| But still they keep on creeping back
|
| The nation sighed
|
| His mother cried
|
| He just expired, still firing
|
| Firing high and wide
|
| He tried to beat them 'till the end
|
| Tried to beat the aliens
|
| Tried to beat the aliens
|
| He failed, a failure
|
| A failure |