I'm so confused by your biology
So bemused by your biography
Got arrested by your wayward charms
Is this magic or am I so hopeless?
I'm held helpless by your
Better run, run, run, run, run
Not that you'd give chase
You don't put on your painted face
Send me blind by your photography
Got marooned by your geography
It's the little things that
You won't make a choice, you want the lot
If I told you what I really thought
You'd be mad as a cat out of hell
With your thoughts on fire
You better run, run, run, run,
Not that you'd give chase
You don't put on your painted face
And I won't play your dan
And I won't play your games