There are all kinds of things I could ask you if I choose

But I don't do I dear good intentions don't survive here

No instead my requests tend to be dumb as hell

Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin

I swear at you 'cos I believe that sweet talk like candy rots teeth



No Hallelujahs, or gifted voices

To sing your praises I'd be walking on wheels

No whoops or war crys or caramias

All translations will read "Marry me now"



Well I sing to express my belief that sweet talk like candy rots teeth

With his hand on his heart, it's a posing place

While draining the mystery from your face

He admits all he's chasing is the chase

But you won't let him run



You make him suffer for all he's gone done

He'll still be hurting when the kingdom comes



Move in close till you see, he only wants what he can't have

So when he gets it he's good as bad

Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin

Oh Hallelujah, how I'm walking on wheels