Do you want to be an angel,
Do you want to be a star,
Do you want to play some magic on my guitar?
Do you want to be a poet,
Do you want to be my string?
You could be anything
Do you want to be the lover of another
Undercover? You could even be the man on the moon

Do you want to be the player,
Do you want to be the string?
Let me just tell you something,
It just don't mean a thing
You see it really doesn't matter
when you're buried in disguise
by the dark glass on your eyes,
though your flesh has crystalised;
Still you turn me on

Do you want to be the pillow where I lay my head,
Do you want to be the feathers lying in my bed?
Do you want to be a colour cover magazine;
create a scene
Every day a little sadder,
A little madder,
Someone get me a ladder

Do you want to be the singer,
Do you want to be the song?
Let me tell you something
you just couldn't be more wrong
You see I really have to tell you
that it all gets so intense
>From my experience
It just doesn't seem to make sense,
Still you turn me on