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You act a pansy, pushover Who is that, something says your name You seem chancy, moreover Do live your fancy, go lower The call is mine I'm gonna get you up The call is mine I'm gonna get on top On the skew, you're dancing all over In a blue suit, orange pullover You are the anti-fashion statement I'm gonna get on top You look like my old dog Rover I'm gonna get you up The call is mine Spit teeth - I can hear you Head crash - I can't see you I feel your pounding me onto the street I've learned to know the taste of concrete Why don't you follow me? I feel the blood gushing, crumbling away Eyes flash - feels like electroshock Street brash - time flies, tick-tock I know this marks the end of my hey-day Why don't you follow me