What you see, babe, won't be what you get,
you bet your ass.
And someone will be singing "Life's a Gas".
I'll get off my back, get on my bicycle and ask.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
All day long I wonder what the hell went wrong with me.
And I must confess I don't profess to be
An expert spouting complex philosophies.
Just want you. I want you. I want you.
I can see it's much too much to ask for.
I can see you don't believe a word.
But I feel I've learned my lesson.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
It occurs to me
that all my dreams are dreams of yesterday.
All is shallow, blasé or passé.
All indications seem to point the same way.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
Words and music copyright Graham Trust
