Lyrics:

When Salome plays the drum, crowd goes deaf and dumb
Swept up by dark sensations
Partially the heat, more so it's the beat
She moves in syncopation, gazelle on the run

Skirts slit past her thigh, boys let out a sigh
The beat begins to quicken
Crowd ascends the stairs, climbin' on the chairs
The plot begins to thicken, phasers on stun

Take them to the carnival
Let them hear the conga
Tonight the tempo feels so right
Tomorrow may be wrong-a

Gendarme close her down, make her leave the town
She caught the flight to Rio, nothin' to say
Wavin' from the plane, pourin' pink champagne
She toasts her loyal trio, it was a lucrative stay

Ooh take them to the carnival
Let them hear the conga
Tonight the tempo feels so right
Tomorrow may be wrong-a

Oh won't you take them to the carnival
Let them play for hours
Tonight the weather feels so right
Tomorrow feels like showers