Well, isn't is strange that your face is deranged
|
Yet I love when it laughs and it says my name
|
Well if you say it again, well it just might hang
|
And send you a telegram that dances and sings
|
|
Singin' la..., la..., la...
|
|
Well isn't it wierd, all the things we feared
|
How if you'd just dissapeared, I'd have to cry a million tears
|
And if...
|
|
They can love themselves, they ain't big enough to crawl
|
Screamin' why...
|
|
Climbin', and climbin', and climbin' around
|
It's a regular nod, a shake and a smile
|
That can only express these things that I'm feeling
|
|
Such a gas, when we live so fast
|
Today I'm sad, I've got my face in the grass
|
You can get me there, with your bleach blonde hair
|
You can pick my fruit, the way and apple picks a pear
|
|
Singing la..., la..., la...
|
|
La..., la..., la... [x3]
|
|
-----------------
|
Isn't It Strange
|
| Scissor Sisters |
