You don't have to think about popcorn anymore
Popcorn has gone to New York
And he said we had to stop and get some popcorn
And he said that this was right
This could be bright in his hipknifing whirl
So he claimed, so he claimed
Sometimes we mistake you for iron
Iron raw and iron fast
Eyelined wallpaper, your pressurized frame
Your epileptone game of lights
Lights, sights and fads, lights, sights and fads
Pads of hypnotized lads
Gods of living
Giving you your worth, space and girth
Wow, you're such a lucky boy
Wow, you're such a lucky boy
Could it be man?
Could it be man?
Could it be mine?
Will you ever hit the forest?
Can you never fight the fame?
Cherish your ways of excellence
Popcorn boy, popcorn boy
Ravish your days of excellence
Popcorn boy, popcorn boy
Your girlie
She wears her woolen tights on so you can play the flirt
She carries a woolen dress too so you can see right through
She suffers your pressure, your daring lack of dirt
She mutters her leisure which is your skin tight shirt
Love is lust is self is love is lust is self is love is lust is
Self is love is lust is self... Is love is love is love is love...
Writer(s): Susan Whitby
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