Do you want to be an angel,
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Do you want to be a star,
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Do you want to play some magic on my guitar?
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Do you want to be a poet,
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Do you want to be my string?
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You could be anything.
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Do you want to be the lover of another
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Undercover? You could even be the man on the moon.
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Do you want to be the player,
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Do you want to be the string?
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Let me just tell you something,
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It just don't mean a thing.
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You see it really doesn't matter
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when you're buried in disguise
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by the dark glass on your eyes,
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though your flesh has crystalised;
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Still .... you turn me on.
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Do you want to be the pillow where I lay my head,
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Do you want to be the feathers lying in my bed?
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Do you want to be a colour cover magazine;
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create a scene.
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Every day a little sadder,
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A little madder,
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Someone get me a ladder.
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Do you want to be the singer,
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Do you want to be the song?
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Let me tell you something
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you just couldn't be more wrong.
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You see I really have to tell you
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that it all gets so intense.
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>From my experience
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It just doesn't seem to make sense,
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Still .... you turn me on.
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-----------------
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Still You Turn Me On
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| Emerson, Lake & Palmer |
