As I lie beside you trying not to make a noise
My crackerjack heart's all wound up like a toy.
It's these torrid thoughts,
They keep stirring up my loins..
Like a dirty little boy, I gotta see a priest.
I godda go to confession. I'm gonna call the police-
I'm gonna do a bad thing.
Don't tell my mama, don't tell my papa,
Baby, I've been dreamin' bad, bad dreams.

I wanna pledge my "allegiancy",
But I'm a ferocious human beast
With carnal instincts.
Still, I'm a standup guy to every
Gal I meet-all those pretty girls in heat-
I godda see a priest. I godda go to confession.
I'm gonna call the police-I'm gonna do a bad thing.
Don't tell my mama, don't tell my papa,
Baby, I've been dreamin' bad, bad dreams.

This sick, old man once shared his philosophy:
Guys imagine having sex with
Every girl they see. Ever since,
I've tried to debunk this myth;
It's the curse of Dionysus.
These dreams I have, no girl is left unturned.
Your best friend, your sister,
Your 8th grade picture-
It's enough to want to lop the thing right off...

So help me god, I gotta see a priest.

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., ROUGH TRADE PUBLISHING
Writer(s): Tim Kasher