Strange raves on a Detroit bridge,
I was reaching for the rhythm, but it's out of reach,
She was [bad word] to the Buick,
She was cutting her tequila with bleach,
And she said to me:
 
"There's no such thing, as an Egyptian cowboy,
Your pretty haircut can't help you now, boy,
There's nothing we can do for you, unless you're willing to kill, [bad word] on and kill!”
 
I think this city could have used a woman's touch,
As I'm wading through the toxic waste and such,
Cause everybody here said I won't amount to much,
Everybody here said I won't amount to much,
When I go from point to point B, I want thrills and chills, and blood to spill
 
But there's never any people on the people who move 
Above the transit equivalent of Herbert Hoover,
You're never gonna get anywhere, because you're standing still, standing still!
 
These songs don't write themselves,
I got a music [bad word] by elves,
Making dozens of records by the twelves,
Stocking our product on Ikea shelves
 
Let me state, (mind, mind, mind, mind...state, state, state, state)
My state of mind (mind, mind, mind,  mind…fine) 
Is just fine
 
Baby, that's the sound of the years going by,
You can find me on the same bar stool just waiting to die,
Three cheers to me, here's mud in your eye!
I said, "Cheers to me, here's mud in your eye!”
She came to close out my tab, so I was troubled, and she took a stab and she said to me:
 
"There's no such thing, as an electric tuba,
The Detroit River's not a good place to scuba,
The only reason you're here today, cause we need you to kill!
Hey, kill!”
 
My songs are tasty pies,
Fresh oven-baked and filled with lies,
Gobbled up by the dozen by Neanderthal guys,
Inhaling the aroma of Canadian ryes,
Oh my, my, you got quite a lot of problems, don't you? (Oh, my, my, my, my…quite, quite, quite, quite, quite a lot of problems, don’t you?)
 
Shake the tambourine!
Shake the shaker machine!
Shake it all,
Shake it high,
Shake it,
Yeah, shake it