from the songs album Road Apples
Thar she blows, Jacques Cousteau
Hear her sing so sweet and low
Lull me overboard, out-cold
Gathered in and swallowed whole
Do I want to? With all that charm?
Do I want to? Twist my arm.
You just hit me where I live
I guess it looked quite primitive
What was that supposed to prove?
Throw the calf or he'll throw you
Sucked in by the victim world
Thirsty as a cultured pearl
Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed
It won't hurt if you don't move
Do I want to? With all that charm?
Do I want you? Twist my arm.
Musical chairs, double dares, memorized stairs,
Shootin off flares, springtime hares and broken-down mares
Coward phones, big soup stones, prideless loans,
Grill sick crows, motel groans and big fat Jones
Martyrs don't do much for me
Though I enjoy them vicariously
After you. No! After me.
No, I insist! Please, after me.
Do I want to? With all that charm?
Do I want you? Twist my arm.
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