He`s in the bar, he`s in your hair,
With his sports keyring jangling he`s everywhere,
He`s in your view, he`s in your face,
Straight out of the seventies to straight out of place.
His collars turned up high he`s on top of the world,
Sliding down the bar he`s always falling, falling,
With his one good eye he winks at what he thinks is girls,
Opens toothless grin and then he`s crawling, crawling.
And I`m a moving, I`m a grooving,
And I`m a smooching, and he`s a discotheque wreck, yeah!
He`s in your sight, he`s in your pocket,
He`s a superfly guy without a superfly rocket,
Every night he`s on your case,
A terrible reality of disco race.
His collars turned up high he`s on top of the world,
Sliding down the bar he`s always falling, falling,
With his one good eye he winks at what he thinks is girls,
Opens toothless grin and then he`s crawling, crawling.
And I`m a moving, I`m a grooving,
And I`m a smooching, and he`s a discotheque wreck, yeah!
I can mashed potato.
I can do the twist.
Tell me baby,
Do you like it like this.
When I`m a moving, I`m a grooving,
And I`m a smooching, and he`s a discotheque wreck, yeah!