Turn baby, turn
You've got the feeling for it
I'm the music
Dance with me, sway
Are you ready for me?




She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits
Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits
Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite
Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight




Moving sideways through the sold photo
Slow figures flashing on tiptoe
Crashing cars on a blue tableau
Goes to show it wasn't everywhere
No one steering, just an auto-move




The pulsing of the flare reflected in the air
Stick-stuck goggles deflecting the stare
Underground, overdrive
Countdown, take off




Don't you wanna end up with this mister?
He is just being nice with his kisses and he
Thinks you're not one of the smart ones Say it darling
Doesn't seem like you want that kind of honey, honey