In my beach shack, we'll be alone. In my beach shack, I'll make you feel at home.
Nine and nine makes fourteen, four and four makes nine. The clock is striking thirteen, I think I've lost my mind.
My fans want my shirt. They can have my shirt. They put it on my back.
I can preach until your deaf and dumb, I'm in that soul saving army beating on that big bass drum.
I'd rather go on hearing your lies, than to go on living without you.
I look at you and wham, I'm head over heals. I guess that love is like a banana peel.