I keep hanging around your kitchenette
And I'm gonna get a pot to cook you in
I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar
And crush all your Gingerbread Men

'Cause I want you
Yeah I want you to be my friend
Yeah I want you
Yeah I wanna be your solitary man

You try not to wake the executioner
He's sleeping with a fireman's axe
He leaves his glass eye on the pillow babe
And his dentures floating there in a glass

How come he makes it hard to relax
He makes it hard to relax
When I want you
When I want you to be my friend

(Ah, c'mon)
(Yeah it's getting hard)
(It's getting hard to relax)
(It's getting hard to get my act together)
(At some point I'm going to open the window and jump outside)

What's this husband of yours ever given to you
Oprah Winfrey on a plasma screen
And a brood of junkie buck-toothed imbeciles
The ugliest fucking kids I've ever seen

Oh baby I want you
Yeah I want you to be my girlfriend

Now will you send those kids to play down the street
And shouldn't you, shouldn't you put shoes on their feet?
It's getting hard to relax
It's getting hard to relax

(I look out the window, who's that, who's that coming up the back stairs)
(Tippy toe, tippy toe, tippy toe, tippy toe, coming up the back stairs)

I can see that you don't really dig him
And I can see that you want it to quit
But if you want to get your hand out of the cookie jar
You're gonna have to let go of the biscuit

Oh babe, I want you
Yeah I want you to be my girlfriend
Yeah I want you
Yeah I wanna be your sidekick man
I wanna be that man

(Tippy toe, tippy toe, coming)
(Aw man, is that really the time)
(Better go and open up the window)
(Look outside)
(Tippy toe, tippy toe, coming up the stairs)

Hey maybe I should take the kids out
It's hard to relax
It's hard to relax
It's hard to relax
It's hard to relax
And get my act together
And get my act together

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Mute Song Limited
Writer(s): James Sclavunos, Martyn Casey, Nicholas Cave, Warren Ellis