Watch out, you might get what you’re after
Cool baby, strange but not a stranger
I’m an ordinary guy
Burning down the house
Hold tight, wait ‘til the party’s over
Hold tight, we’re in for nasty weather
There has got to be a way
Burning down the house
Here’s your ticket, pack your bags
Time for jumpin’ overboard
Transportation is here
Close enough but not too far,
Maybe you know where you are
Fightin’ fire with fire, huah
All wet, hey you might need a raincoat
Shakedown, dreams walking in broad daylight
Three hundred, sixty five degrees
Burning down the house
It was once upon a place sometimes, I listen to myself
Gonna come in first place
People on their way to work say baby what did you expect
Gonna burst into flame
Go ahead
Burning down the house
My house, is out of the ordinary
That’s right, don’t want to hurt nobody
Some things, sure can sweep me off my feet
Burning down the house
No visible means of support and you have not seen nothin’ yet
Everything’s stuck together
I don’t know what you expect staring into the TV set
Fightin’ fire with fire, huah
Yea
Burning down the house
Burning down the house
Burning down the house
Something for you to do *this Instant*: google St. Vincent. Texas girl, trained up by David Byrne. Her breakout track is Digital Witness, maybe (sp). She’s Talking Heads with a chick mic.
“Boris The Spider”
Look, he’s crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now he’s up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now he’s dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe he’s as scared as me
Where’s he gone now, I can’t see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
There he is wrapped in a ball
Doesn’t seem to move at all
Perhaps he’s dead, I’ll just make sure
Pick this book up off the floor
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
He’s come to a sticky end
Don’t think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl ‘round
He’s embedded in the ground
Boris the spider
Boris the spider