Lyrics:

From the Albums: * Face it * Last blast of the century You cook my brain in your favorite pot You fry my eggs till they're sizzlin' hot You like to give it everythin' you got and everythin's for free, everythin' for free Make all the girls at the beauty parlor Jump up and down and scream and holler Just like a lapdog on a leash with a collar That's what you're makin' me, that's what you make outta me I ain't no professor, I ain't got no degree but I sure as hell know how to read the little notes you keep sendin' The bottom line always gets to me What do you mean? Legalize, legalize, legalize telepathy Legalize, legalize, legalize telepathy You always go where I wanna be goin' You always know what I wanna be knowin' You always do what I wanna be doin' now ain't that telepathy, with a capital E.S.P..?