Yeah
I
Electrified harmonious
I think I'll take it out to the streets
Somebody please stop me
Call the doctor but don't call the police

Are you into the beat?
Are you into the beat?
I can feel it in my teeth

I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me mad
I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me crazy
It's driving me crazy
It's driving me mad

I wish I were an astronaut
Space case planting the seed
They put me in a hospital
Locked me up and threw away the key
Hey, hey, hey, hey, are you into the beat?
I'm the king of the beat
I can feel it in my teeth

I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me mad
I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me crazy
Now shut up and dance

I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me mad
I can feel it in my teeth
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me crazy
It's driving me crazy
It's driving me mad

We live in a environment who's a entire population
of critics and no painters to be found
Where have all the storytellers gone?
Just when did I become so eaten up by moss
and covered in a cloak of popularity?
And then I lose my voice in between
the echoes of self serving prophecy
A captain without a ship
A chief... a chief without a tribe
A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear
his cheeks slap together and
worship the sound of his own voice
A muffled cry
A muffled cry
A muffled cry

A muffled cry
Power concaved inside a woman
To configure through the mythical power
of the tree's the graphics lean paper small
Paper thin garments and garments and garments
and garments and garments and garments and
Pray for summer days
The rain and wind is so strong outside my window
And winter's always searching for another
I hear his cheeks slap together and worship his own voice
Alright
I'm so tired of the demands of this world
Her nagging voice
The song she sings, the songs that she desires
She cries out in the heat of her passions
Her legs spread ready for a Roman
Ready for a stranger
The captain without a ship
A chief... a chief without a tribe
A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear
his cheeks slap together and
worship the sound of his own voice
I dare not take another drink until it's done
Just when did I become so eaten up by moss
and covered in a cloak of popularity?
When I lose my voice in between
the echoes of self serving prophecy