in the middle of the city
Blank looks all around today
It's in style but it isn't very pretty,
You gotta save face to cope
You fight for what you need
I'm just a low -fashion boy
Can't get up for the downstroke
I don't think that I can't compete
She's fit as a fax file fiddle
Short pumps, white hair to boot
Crop top on a washboard middle
but I don't think that she's
Cut the smile, laugh out loud
Share the sweat of a rockin' crowd
Of a newborn spring in years
Why don't you say what you mean?
You're just mild in the right words
Looks like you're perfectly made
I'm just an old -fashioned boy
Strictly kickin' it old school
I don't think that I can't compete
But I'm not obsolete yet, I'm just tired
And I can't sleep, I'm paranoid, I'm wired
I hear this buzzin' in my brain
My heart confused and overcame
Still the salt will kill the pain
Run right through the milking hon ey
We run right out of faith and love
But we ain't gonna run out of money
Why don't you say what you mean
You're just mild in the right words
Looks like you're perfectly made
I'm just an old -fashioned boy
Can't get up, hold a down stroke
I don't think that I can compete