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The Tragically Hip » Twist My Arm |
Thar she blows, Jacques Cousteau Hear her sing so sweet and low Lull me overboard, out-cold Gathered in and swallowed whole
Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want to? Twist my arm.
You just hit me where I live I guess it looked quite primitive What was that supposed to prove? Throw the calf or he'll throw you
Sucked in by the victim world Thirsty as a cultured pearl Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed It won't hurt if you don't move
Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want you? Twist my arm.
Musical chairs, double dares, memorized stairs, Shootin off flares, springtime hares and broken-down mares
Coward phones, big soup stones, prideless loans, Grill sick crows, motel groans and big fat Jones
Martyrs don't do much for me Though I enjoy them vicariously After you. No! After me. No, I insist! Please, after me.
Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want you? Twist my arm.
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