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,
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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
|
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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
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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....
|
|
-----------------
|
Me and Howard Hughes
|
| Boomtown Rats |
