| I heard you knocking on my cellar door
|
| You started jonesing and came back for more
|
| It’s not a miracle
|
| It’s just a new kind of kick
|
| You tried to call me on the telephone
|
| Just like a dog you’re looking for a bone
|
| It’s not a miracle
|
| You just don’t give a shit
|
| So loosen up on that waistband
|
| And cut it loose in the wasteland
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo
|
| Mister Sister, what you gonna do?
|
| Hi hi and-a ho ho
|
| Mister Sister, where you gonna go?
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo!
|
| You told the papers that you quit that scene
|
| You sold your story to the magazine
|
| It wasn’t chemistry
|
| You turned a new kind of trick
|
| You rode your unicycle 'round the block
|
| You acted like you knew just when to stop
|
| It’s such a spectacle
|
| You don’t know when to quit — now you’ve got ticks!
|
| So now you’re puplic sanitation
|
| Now you’re the sewer of the nation
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo
|
| Mister Sister, what you gonna do?
|
| Hi hi and-a ho ho
|
| Mister Sister, where you gonna go?
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo!
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo
|
| Mister Sister, what you gonna do?
|
| Hi hi and-a ho ho
|
| Mister Sister, where you gonna go?
|
| My my and-a boo-hoo
|
| Mister Sister, what you gonna do?
|
| Hi hi and-a ho ho |