The Flaming Lips - Telepathic Surgery

Fryin' Up

All right!

Turn around in the perfect day
Without my babies I could get nowhere
I run a long time, people stare
I'll get the bus and my legs will tear

Frying up on Easter Sunday
Blowing off everything on Monday

Well everything was half past noon
All the tussle, baby, on your boots
I want to move you but I just don't care
Get to pushing on an electric chair

Frying up on Easter Sunday
Blowing off everything on Monday

Take it!

I keep on running, yes, it's such a thrill
Feels like heaven when I touch your hair
I'm in your arms and in your stare
Get to pushing on an electric chair

Frying up on Easter Sunday
Blowing off everything on Monday
Frying up on Easter Sunday
Frying up on Easter Sunday

Credits
Writer(s): Coyne, Ivins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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