| Meet me by the key-light moon in the park
|
| They’ve got their clothes and their diet conscience
|
| But are they art?
|
| Riot squad, the old mod, his perfume tears
|
| Singing if you wanna do it right
|
| Right then
|
| Do it right here
|
| And oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling
|
| Benzedrine
|
| Pock-marked self indulgence taking to the stage
|
| They are powdering their noses with each critical acclaim
|
| And Sam-I-Am fighting hard and clicking down the gears
|
| Singing if you wanna do it right
|
| Right then
|
| Do it right here
|
| And oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling
|
| Benzedrine
|
| Road-side manner in the dumb down medicine
|
| You pick me from the gutter and then tell me what a mess I’m in
|
| Your pop-picked junkies and their global saccharine
|
| Give us something stronger til we all join in again
|
| And oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling
|
| Benzedrine
|
| Cross culture, camera courters, candy for the masses
|
| They are firing every pixel to give boundaries to the classes
|
| And Bullseye chasing veins like a bee stung bear
|
| Singing if you wanna do it right
|
| Right then
|
| Do it right here
|
| And oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling
|
| Benzedrine |