You, You, You

You, You, You

You’ve got eyes in the back of your head
You’re gonna get me alive or dead
You’ve got hunter’s eyes to see
You’re gonna make a meal of me


Ah you, you pull me through
you, it’s what you do
You fill my heart
tear it apart
You put me in jail,
jump my bail
You’re guaranteed
and that’s what I need,
you, you, you.

I am feeling, all alone
You have turned me into stone
I’d pray the lord my soul to take
but it’s easier to wait for . . .



Who can make me write this letter?
Who can leave me feeling better, better, better? It’s . . .


Peter White © 1995, All Rights Reserved.