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You act a pansy, pushover
 Who is that, something says your name
 You seem chancy, moreover
 Do live your fancy, go lower
 The call is mine
 I'm gonna get you up
 The call is mine
 I'm gonna get on top
 On the skew, you're dancing all over
 In a blue suit, orange pullover
 You are the anti-fashion statement
 I'm gonna get on top
 You look like my old dog Rover
 I'm gonna get you up
 The call is mine
 Spit teeth - I can hear you
 Head crash - I can't see you
 I feel your pounding me onto the street
 I've learned to know the taste of concrete
 Why don't you follow me?
 I feel the blood gushing, crumbling away
 Eyes flash - feels like electroshock
 Street brash - time flies, tick-tock
 I know this marks the end of my hey-day
 Why don't you follow me