The morning paper is not that sane
A man is smiling, do you know his name?
(Ha-ah, ha-ah)
He's shaking hands with the president
It almost seems as though he's heaven sent
I'm mad about, I'm mad about you
I'm mad about you
He's gonna do a number on you
He's gonna do a number on you
Something inside tells you to hide
You cannot decide what to do
(Ha-ah, ha-ah)
Oh no, what's wrong?
Something's on his face
I know it's crazy, but love is not a trace
I'm mad about, I'm mad about you
I'm mad about you
He's gonna do a number on you
He's gonna do a number on you
Something inside tells you to hide
You cannot decide what to, cannot decide what to
Think of this guy, is there a pie in the sky?
I'd hate to imply that I knew
He's got a friend it seems there is no end
To the tricks that he do, always on cue
Standing in line, it's so divine
You choose the place
My hand or my face