I'm sorry they're in time for us to make it work.
Romantic possibilities were strangled at birth.
You tell me that you want me only makes it worse.
There's nothing that I can do because I gotta rehearse.
And you accept this sacrifice like chocolate pie.
And as I gobble it up I find it tastes like a lie.
And later in the kitchen with a bottle of wine,
my mother asks what happened to the perfect guy.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Now put your costume on.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Now put your lipstick on.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Now put your smile on,
you gotta dance to the rhythm,
gotta sing to the song.
