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We climb out of bed like the rest of you, |
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Post afternoon, and we don black suits. |
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But all of us aren't quite as goth as they say we are, |
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We just like fast cars. |
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And we can dance like the best of them, |
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As long as the lights stay low |
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And the jockey knows what she's doing. |
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And we can dance like the best of them, |
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As long as the lights stay low |
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And the jockey knows what she's doing. |
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Don't think aloud, |
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So what if our teeth protrude more than yours do |
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And we perch on stoops. |
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And all of us aren't quite as mean |
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As the drama queens and the static cling. |
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And we can dance like the best of them, |
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As long as the lights stay low |
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And the jockey knows what she's doing. |
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And we can dance like the best of them, |
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As long as the lights stay low |
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And the jockey knows what she's doing. |
