Yeah, alright

Electrified harmonious
I think I'll take it out to the streets
Will somebody please help me?
Call the doctor but don't call the police

Yeah, cool
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 making the scene, yeah
Put me in a hospital
Lock me up and throw out 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
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, ooh
I can feel it in my teeth
And it's driving me crazy
It's driving me crazy
It's driving me mad

Yeah, yeah
We live in an environment whose 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 his 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 con—caved inside a woman
To configure through the mythical power of the trees, the graphics being paper th—
Paper thin garments and garments and garments and garments and garments and garments and garments and garments
Pray for summer days
The rain and wind is so strong outside my window
And winter's always searching for another
I hear—I hear his cheeks slap together and worship his own voice
Lou—louder? Okay, 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—ready for a stranger
The captain without his ship
A chief w—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 gone
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