Lyrics

These are not my legs These are pins and record needles This is not my arm But I'll raise it to the ceiling And tell you to turn it up Because this music is turning me on These are not my hands but I still need them to play These aren't my back muscles But I need to stand up straight And hold my head up way too high Like a giraffe or a Rasta or something else Exotic with its head in the clouds This is not my crowd But I tell them to put one hand in the air If getting our rock on Is getting their rocks off The clock is ticking So let's tock Face-to-facе-to-empty-space I don't update rеgularly and I don't tweet truth I sweet tooth like I am that antler An operative with no handler Freeing myself with a laser pen Writing my name on the moon Signing your ass with a Sharpie Don't fall asleep with your shoes on Because we plan to rock your socks off And if you sleepwalk with no socks Your feet will stink But these are not your feet So get off of them Get up, get all the way up to the ceiling Get pushed into the cracks in the paint Kick away cobwebs And dance circles around busted light bulbs You're never too big to be hoisted up and paraded around the room I can count more strong young men here than chair legs You're never too old to rock 'til you drop Just prepare to drop early enough for it to kick in before bed Old Man Galapagos Tortoise Is 4000 years old and he's never left the rock He's had the same girl for centuries And he's walked a path into covered-wagon-wheel-ruts And that sounds like a great way to live