Come on to talk, why don't we stop?
Just wasting time
Wherever we go the lights stay low, I'm Frankenstein

I know what you'll say: you mean the creation, not the creator
The nights where we play, old man Hemingway, mojito and chaser

Down where the streets get narrow
And the freaks get high on sorrow
Won't you dance like a monster with me?
Like a feel, like a gun, like a boss this goes off

This goes off, this goes off
It goes off, it goes off

What do you got, 'cause you speak a lot like a nursery rhyme
Shadows and doubt from north to south, but I'm Frankenstein

Oh where to begin, just don't make me sin with all those pretenders
I'm late for a thing and the bawdy and jingoistic agendas

Down where the streets get narrow
And the freaks get high on sorrow
Won't you dance like a monster with me?
Like a feel, like a gun, like a boss, this goes off

This goes off, this goes off
It goes off, this goes off
This goes off

Down on the streets
Down with the freaks
Won't you dance like a monster with me?
Like a boss this goes off

It goes off, it goes off
It goes off

It goes off
It goes off
Oh, it goes off
It goes off
Oh, it goes off
It goes off
Oh, it goes off

Copyright: Strictly Songs SPRL, Wixen Music Publishing
Writer(s): Chris Urbanowicz, Ed Lay, Russell Leetch, Tom Smith