Why are we racing to be so old

I'm up late pacing the floor

I won't be told

you have your reservations

I'm bought and sold

I'll face the music, I'll face the facts

even when we walk in polka-dots and checkered slacks

bowing and squawking, running after tidbits

bobbing and squinting, just like a nitwit



chorus

two little hitlers will fight it out until

one little hitler does the other one's will

I will return, I will not burn



down in the basement

I need my head examined, I need my eyes excited

I'd like to join the party, but I was not invited

you make a member of me, I'll be delighted

I wouldn't cry for lost souls you might drown

dirty words with dirty minds written in a toilet town

dial me a valentine, she's a smooth operator

it's all so calculated, she's got a calculator

she's my soft touch typewriter, and I'm the great dictator



chorus



a simple game of self-respect

you flick the switch and the world goes off

nobody jumps as you expect

I would have thought you would have had enough by now



You call selective dating, for some effective mating

I thought I'd let you down dear, but you were just deflating

I knew right from the start, we'd end up hating



pictures of the merchandise plastered on the wall

we can look so long as we don't have to talk at all

you say you'll never know him, he's not a natural man

he doesn't want your pleasure, he wants as no one can

he wants to know the names of all those he's better than



chorus