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Tragically Hip Road Apples Twist My Arm Thar she blows, Jaques Cousteau Hear here sing so sweet and low Lull me overboard, out-cold Gathered in and swallowed whole Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want to? Twist my arm. You just hit me where I live I guess it looked quite primitive What was that supposed to prove? Throw the call or he'll throw you Sucked in by the victim world Thirsty as a cultured pearl Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed It won't hurt if you don't move Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want you? Twist my arm. Musical chairs, double dares, memorized stairs, Shootin off flares, springtime hares and broken-down mares Coward phones, big soup stones, prideless loans, Grill sick crows, motel groans and big fat Jones Martyrs don't do much for me Though I enjoy them vicariously After you. No! After me. No, I insist! Please, after me. Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want you? Twist my arm. |
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