Hang On To Yourself

Well she's a tongue twisting storm, she will come to the show tonight Praying to the light machine She wants my honey not my money she's a funky-thigh collector Layin' on 'lectric dreams [Chorus] So come on, come on, we've really got a good thing going Well come on, well come on, if you think we're gonna make it You better hang on to yourself We can't dance, we don't talk much, we just ball and play But then we move like tigers on vaseline Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar You're the blessed, we're the spiders from Mars [Chorus x 3] Come on, ah, come on, ah (repeat ad inf.)