There are all kinds of things I could ask you if I choose But I don't do I dear good intentions don't survive here No instead my requests tend to be dumb as hell Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin I swear at you 'cos I believe that sweet talk like candy rots teeth
No Hallelujahs, or gifted voices To sing your praises I'd be walking on wheels No whoops or war crys or caramias All translations will read 'Marry me now'
Well I sing to express my belief that sweet talk like candy rots teeth With his hand on his heart, it's a posing place While draining the mystery from your face He admits all he's chasing is the chase But you won't let him run
You make him suffer for all he's gone done He'll still be hurting when the kingdom comes
Move in close till you see, he only wants what he can't have So when he gets it he's good as bad Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin Oh Hallelujah, how I'm walking on wheels