Magic Fingers

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MARK and HOWARD (singing):
Oooh, the way you love me,
I get so hard now I could die
Oooh, the way you love me, sugar
I get so hard now I could die
Open up your pocket-book
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocket-book
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Oooh, the way you squeeze me baby
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Oooh, the way you squeeze me, girl
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Open up your pocket-book
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocket-book
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

MARK:
Do ya really wanna please me

HOWARD:
Y'know I do ...

MARK:
Tell me why you do it...
I really wanna know

HOWARD:
Well, it wouldn't be right
For me to tell ya tonight...

MARK:
You better tell me right away
Or I'll dress up and go!

HOWARD:
Don't get mad ... it ain't no big thing!

MARK:
You better tell me right away. Don't you treat me cold!

HOWARD:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!

Well. . . there are a lot of reasons why I'd drag a girl such as yourself back to this
plastic hotel room... and rip you off for spare change to run a ... to run a vibrating
machine, attached to this bulk-purchase, queen-size, kapok-infested,
do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed, and make you take off all your
little clothes... until you were nearly stark raving nude (save for your
chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong Peace Medallion) and make you assume a
series of marginally erotic poses involving a plastic chair and an guitar strap, while I
did a wee-wee in your hair ... and beat you with a pair of tennis shoes I got from Jeff Beck . . .

 

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200 Motels