Inside every teenage girl there's a fountain Inside every young pair of pants there's a mountain Inside every mother's eyes is tommy tinkrem's bed Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead
I make it a thing, when I'm on my own to relieve myself I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage to believe in myself I make it a thing, to glance in window panes and look pleased with myself Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home
I took it so bad, I sat in the correction room Took me a fag, and a kick in the moon Well, I ain't gonna suck no radar wing Because inside this tin is tin Would you like to techno-plate cause I'm your candidate Oh yeah
It's a matter of life And the way you walk, you've got a brylcream queen It's a matter of tact In the things you talk, that keeps his passport clean A matter of fact That a cock ain't a cock on a twelve inch screen So I'll pretend I'm walking home
You don't have to scream a lot to keep an age in tune You don't have to scream a lot to predict monsoons You don't have to paint my contact black Now I've hustled a pair of jeans Do I have to give your money back when I'm the fuhrerling
I'll make you a deal I'll say I came from from earth and my tongue is taped I'll make you a deal You can get your kicks on the candidate I'll make you a deal For your future's sake, I'm the candidate Let's pretend we're walking home
Uh-huh, uh-huh I'm the candidate I'm the candidate Vote now for the candidate
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