Well she's a tongue twisting storm, she will come to the
  show tonight
  Praying to the light machine
  She wants my honey not my money she's a funky-thigh
  collector
  Layin' on 'lectric dreams
    [CHORUS]
  So come on, come on
  we've really got a good thing going
  Well come on, well come on
  If you think we're gonna make it
  You better hang on to yourself
    We can't dance, we don't talk much
  We just ball and play
  But then we move like tigers on vaseline
  Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar
  You're the blessed, we're the Spiders from Mars
    [CHORUS (x3)]
    Come on, ah, come on, ah [repeat ad inf.]