| Foxy Moron He’s on the floor with his moves and more With his tan and his sixty dollar crew cut, He’s the poster guy for what money can buy, With the look and a little bit of luck. Sometimes they stare, he can tell they’re there, He can feel their eyes upon his back, But he’s used to it, with his chiseled chin, It’s his pecs and his jaw-dropping six pack. Make way for the foxy moron. He knows they’d all have him if they could. Make way for the foxy moron, Vanity never looked so good. She’s less impressed with him undressed Than he expected her to be. It’s the same routine from week to week, With the silence and the stifled apologies. He’s unaware she’s lying there, A little numbed by what she’s feeling. He’s realized he’d have a better view If he lit the mirror on the ceiling. Back issue of Maxim piled high by the toilet seat. The perfection of the hair cut—it’s no easy feat. The bill for the hair gel totaled $80 in the last two months alone. The extent of his maintenance has heretofore gone untold. Slumber Party I’m leaning into your motorcycle, I’m begging you for a ride, I’m asking you to come to my slumber party. Hey there street savvy, it’s time to listen up— You think that you’re the tough one but I know you’re not that tough. Bring me the head of John the Baptist Place it on the TV set, don’t you forget Don’t you forget, won’t you forget. Do you like fancy special drinks? I’m mixing them up in the sink. Do you like orange, red, or pink? I’ve got a golden dance floor—come around, I’ll show you what it’s for. Hand picked, hand selected, exciting and unexpected. Running man into the strobe light, disco balls are all part of the act I’ve got to tell you this one little fact: I’ve got a secret. But I’m not telling you tonight. Do you like paper sleeves? Do you like rolled up leaves? My sleeping bag is built for two. I think it’d be just right for me and you. Late night, it’s time to go to sleep. Sit back, relax, the best part of the slumber party. Sit back, relax, be glad you’re at my slumber party. Galaxy Girl I’m a galaxy girl I claim earth as my world, But it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m a galaxy girl, I’ve got iridescent skin And hair made up of comet flames. I’m a galaxy girl. Some people mistake me for those Star Trek chicks And InterPlanet Janet wants to be me. Some people say I rival Judy Jetson, but to them I say, She don’t know what hip is. I’m a galaxy girl I claim earth as my world, But it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m a galaxy girl, I’ve got iridescent skin And hair made up of comet flames. |
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