I can't help myself
I am the doughnut
That you hold up
And I never sold up in a pie,
The hoot boot's so fly,
I always try to beat
The rest to impress,
I put my tongue
In my trouser press,
I got the toots, baby
You got the fruits,
Fruit got the loot, lady
You got the boots,
Don't be a mook
Don't get the spook,
Don't be a cry baby
I only said maybe,
Shmoozin I was pressuing
When like a catapult,
I did a summersault,
Going down the lazy river,
three fingers deliver,
I can't help myself
The reverb you just heard is resounding
In the surrounding area,
It's getting scarier
I've got the amp damp mangled,
Got my tingle in tangle
Let me see what I can wangle,
In the bermuda triangle,
Gravity will be the death of me,
Terminal velocity follow
The follow the vaper,
One hundred purcent proof caper,
Burst the barricades
But don't drink the lemonade,
Martinis by beeard man
An artizan down at the can can,
And oh yes he can can fat,
Fredies cat in seven lead boots
Whiskey for the whiskers
The shot sure shoots,
She sells sea shells sea shells on the sea shore,
Is it true what mummy said
You can't come back no more,
Oh no no no no
Singing a song about nothing,
Talk through my belly button,
At the inn of seventh happiness
More or less,
I found you on the floor
Saying more more more,
Peel back the skin sonar
Beats like quaver,
Small bananas selected for flavour,
I can't help myself....

Writer : ROISIN MURPHY MARK ERRINGTON BRYDON
Copyright : Lyrics © CHRYSALIS MUSIC GROUP INC