Hand me down a strong panacea,
One that's guaranteed to make me
feel like Hercules,
There's flies everywhere, buzzing in
the air,
Filling my body with filth and
disease....and I think,
He thinks he should develop a
complex,
He thinks that he really owes it to
himself,
His friends'll all say he's looking sick
and unhealthy
An' then he can wallow in sweet self-
neglect
Oh oh yeah...he's gonna
Lock himself up in his room
Shutter the windows and bolt all the
doors,
Wrap himself round in his Wall Street
cocoon
He's painting the ceiling, the walls
and the floor,
He's gonna lock himself up in his
room
And when he emerges have a new
change of style,
He keeps saying things like it's me
and Howard Hughes
You'd wana watch out for that
dangerous smile.
Oh, oh yeah....
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