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 (x3)] 
 
Come on, ah, come on, ah [repeat ad inf.]