Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Mick Rolson, Ian Hunter
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Ian HunterBoy Lyrics:
Genocidal tendencies are silly, too extreme
After all you're still quite small
You don't know where you've been
You was only swearing yesterday
Oh, you wanna win the world away
But now you got nothing to say
Boy, you're getting out of hand
You've got to make a stand
So put the coke away
Boy, you got the do the show
Got to let the people know
You've got the strength to stay
I can see you run
I can see you hide
Oh, your heart is aching
Lost in a dream of what might have been
You're the guide
You're the number one
And your knees are shaking
Stand and deliver in an endless dream
Schizophrenic, photogenic
Aggravates me so
Only yes-men, have a guess man
Watch the spirit go
Batman zips the monster as he bleeds
And gets off on the buzz he needs
And a kid on the street just reads
And reads and reads and reads
And reads and reads and reads
Boy, it's them hard case city blues
Cagney is the news
Does "The Giant" ring a bell?
Boy, it's the Hudson East River cruise
It's the Empire State of booze
Oh, you know the story well
Do you have to run?
Do you have to hide?
There's a new tomorrow
Yes, you're a mess
But you're more than less
When this battle's won
You can look inside
All you did not borrow
Yes, you're the best
But you still can't rest
You know, you know
The carnival is closed
Your streets are lined with ghosts
But a princess don't look back
Don't look back, don't look 'round
Your vision is your fight
Through long electric nights
When a woman helps you write
Na na na
Na na na
Na
Na na na
Na na na
Cheer up mate, put the dramas in the past
See you did not have to fast
Euphemism lasts and lasts and lasts
And lasts and lasts and lasts
And lasts and lasts
Boy, if you've got an ax to grind
Be thankful for this time
For it gives you what you need
Boy, you've got an eighty-eight to play
It'll tell you what to say
It'll tell you when to breathe
Boy, take a turnpike heading west
Turn the people on to Beau Geste
'Cause that's what you did the best
Boy, play the pipes till they're old and worn
Sing the words till they fall forlorn
Like the pieces of a jigsaw jet
Boy, don't let the earth get in your face
It's a middle-aged displace
It's the middle ages snide
Boy, we're a million miles away
And to think it's so insane
Take a chance on a one way ride
Boy, shoot a rocket clean out of your mind
Oh, these people ain't your kind
No, they ain't your kind at all
Boy, shoot a rocket clean out of your brain
No, these people ain't the same
You can hear another call
Boy, the [Incomprehensible] starts with [Incomprehensible]
They don't show us how to grow
They only show us how to win
Hey boy, the secret's in the bicycle shed
Ain't no secret's of the dead
To seek is a mortal sin
Hey, you know, boy, let your madness be the clue
Madness, madness, madness, madness, madness
Madness, madness, madness, madness, madness
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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