Inside every teenage girl is a fountain

Inside every young pair of pants there's a mountain

Inside every mothers eyes is Tommy Tinkers bed

Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead

I make it a thing,

when I'm all alone to relieve myself

I make it a thing,

when I gazelle on stage, to believe in myself

I make it a thing,

to glance in window panes and feel pleased with myself

Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home

Took it so bad, I sat in a correction room

Took me a bath, and a kick in the moon

Well, I ain't gonna suck no radar wing,

because this tin is tin

Would you like techno-plate,

'cause I'm your candidate

It's a matter of life,

and the way you walk, you got a Brill Cream queen

It's a matter of tact,

and the things you talk, it keeps his passport clean

A matter of fact,

that cocking a cock on a twelve inch screen

So I'll pretend I'm walking home

Don't have to scream a lot

to keep an age in tune

Don't have to scream a lot

to predict monsoons

You don't have to paint my contract black

Now I've hustled a pair of jeans

Do I have to give your money back,

when I'm the fuehrer Allene?

I'll make you a deal,

I say I came from from Earth and my tongue is tape

I'll make you a deal,

you can set your kicks on the candidate

I'll make you a deal,

for your futures sake, I'm the candidate

Lets pretend we're walking home

uh-huh, uhhh

I'm the candidate

I'm the candidate

Vote now for the candidate