Narrator:
The morning paper is not the same
A man is smiling, do you know his name?
He's shaking hands with the president
It almost seems as though he's heaven sent
Frenzied crowd:
(I'm mad about... I'm mad about you)
Narrator:
Chorus:
He's gonna' do a number on you (a very strange tatoo!)
He's gonna' do a number on you (a very strange tatoo!)
Something inside tells you to hide
You cannot decide what to do
Person in crowd:
(Full of wonder)
Oh, no! What's wrong? Something's on his face!
Crowd:
I know it's crazy, but now there's not a trace!
(I'm mad about... I'm mad about you)
Narrator:
Chorus:
He's gonna' do a number on you (a very strange tatoo!)
Goon squad:
(Gonna' do a number on you)
Narrator:
He's gonna' do a number on you (a very strange tatoo!)
Goon squad:
(Gonna' do a number on you)
Narrator:
Something inside tells you to hide
You cannot decide what to do, cannot decide what to
Think of this guy, is there a pie in the sky?
I'd hate to imply that I knew
Zombie like crowd:
He's got a friend, it seems there is no end
To the tricks that he'll do, always on cue
Standing in line, it's so divine
Can we choose the place, my hand or my face?
