What's to do?
Didn't they want to play?
Not to fret
Wait a while
Do it again
Glory be!
I died and went to France
Now I'm climbing carpet walls,
For just another chance
Not today,
Just suck on your plastic spoon
Chase the thought that
George lassoes the moon
It's gonna come round soon
And when it does,
I'll be falling round the room
It's not funny anymore
Had enough
I'm not laughing anymore
Had enough
More than this,
I'm more than this
The more I try,
The less it works
Enough is enough
What's to do?
Didn't they want to play?
Not to fret, do it again
It's gonna come round soon
I'll be falling round the room
