Assembly

Don't you wanna end up with this mister?
He is just being nice with his kisses and he
Thinks you're not one of the smart ones
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Moving sideways through the sold photo
Slow figures flashing on tiptoe
Crashing cars on a blue tableau
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She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight She's too rich for her men She won't stay, what a shame A shame She won't fit in his world She exists for the game A shame Tricky repertoire Words flying 'round Picky seminar Bound to be drowned in the sound Sticky shirt and tie Play 'Bottoms Up' in the bar Icky, fly guy - why, She's nastier by far It's appeasing how she wanna flaunt her fur His mind's but a blur He's derailing from his train of thought Doing not what he ought and was taught He's trying to flick quick, but she waged the pages stick Someone must have gone click, click, click, click Can't see what's new, he doesn't have a clue Of what to do with the woman he thought that he knew She's too rich for her men She won't stay, what a shame A shame She won't fit in his world She exists for the game A shame.
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Turn baby, turn
You've got the feeling for it
I'm the music
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We stepped out of the brittle frame
And I heard her as she came
Through the city-streets
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He tries to see, although he can't
He tries, but doesn't understand
He calls on a different phone-line
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Set me free, why don't cha babe
Get out my life, why don't cha babe
'Cause you don't really love me
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