There are all kinds of things I could ask you if I choose
But I don't do I dear good intentions don't survive here
No instead my requests tend to be dumb as hell
Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin
I swear at you 'cause I believe that sweet talk like candy rots teeth
No Hallelujahs, or gifted voices
To sing your praises I'd be walking on wheels
No whoops or war cry's or caramias
All translations will read Marry me now
Well I sing to express my belief that sweet talk like candy rots teeth
With his hand on his heart, it's a posing place
While draining the mystery from your face
He admits all he's chasing is the chase
But you won't let him run
You make him suffer for all he's gone done
He'll still be hurting when the kingdom comes
Move in close till you see, he only wants what he can't have
So when he gets it he's good as bad
Move in close, closer still, I hear the songs of Georgie Gershwin
Oh Hallelujah, how I'm walking on wheels