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A small Jean Genie |
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snuck off to the city |
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Strung out on lasers |
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and slash back blazers |
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Ate all your razors |
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while pulling the waiters |
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Talking bout Monroe |
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and walking on Snow White 19 |
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New York's a go-go 19 |
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and everything tastes right |
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Poor little Greenie |
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[CHORUS] |
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The Jean Genie lives on his back |
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The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks |
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He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls |
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Jean Genie let yourself go! |
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Sits like a man |
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but he smiles like a reptile |
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She loves him, she loves him but |
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just for a short while |
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She'll scratch in the sand, |
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won't let go his hand |
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He says he's a beautician |
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and sells you nutrition |
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And keeps all your dead hair |
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for making up underwear |
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Poor little Greenie |
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[CHORUS] |
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He's so simple minded |
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he can't drive his module |
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He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule |
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Loves to be loved, loves to be loved |
