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Inside every teenage girl is a fountain Inside every young pair of pants there's a mountain Inside every mothers eyes is Tommy Tinkers bed Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead I make it a thing, when I'm all alone to relieve myself I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage, to believe in myself I make it a thing, to glance in window panes and feel pleased with myself Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home Took it so bad, I sat in a correction room Took me a bath, and a kick in the moon Well, I ain't gonna suck no radar wing, because this tin is tin Would you like techno-plate, 'cause I'm your candidate It's a matter of life, and the way you walk, you got a Brill Cream queen It's a matter of tact, and the things you talk, it keeps his passport clean A matter of fact, that cocking a cock on a twelve inch screen So I'll pretend I'm walking home Don't have to scream a lot to keep an age in tune Don't have to scream a lot to predict monsoons You don't have to paint my contract black Now I've hustled a pair of jeans Do I have to give your money back, when I'm the fuehrer Allene? I'll make you a deal, I say I came from from Earth and my tongue is tape I'll make you a deal, you can set your kicks on the candidate I'll make you a deal, for your futures sake, I'm the candidate Lets pretend we're walking home uh-huh, uhhh I'm the candidate I'm the candidate Vote now for the candidate