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The Tragically Hip Road Apples Twist My Arm Thar she blows, Jacques Cousteau Hear her sing so sweet and low Lull me overboard, out-cold Gathered in and swallowed whole Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want to? Twist my arm You just hit me where I live I guess it looked quite primitive What was that supposed to prove? Throw the calf or he'll throw you Sucked in by the victim world Thirsty as a cultured pearl Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed It won't hurt if you don't move Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want to? Twist my arm Musical chairs, double dares, memorized stairs, Shootin' off flares, springtime hares and broken down mares Coward phones, big soup stones, priceless loans, Grill-sick crows, motel moans and a big fat Jones Martyrs don't do much for me Though I enjoy them vicariously After you. No! After me No, I insist! Please, after me. Do I want to? With all that charm? Do I want to? Twist my arm |
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