Paroles
Dishes and satellites spreading our looks
Sharing us for a profit, or so i've been told
His entire sex life was being watched on the net (on the net)
His somehow solitary sex life
Was being broadcasted as he plays (as he plays)
I count on you, my faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I count on you, my faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I count on you, my faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I count on you, my faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I've got nothing to hide
I know it's kind of wrong
I've got nothing to hide
I know it's kind of wrong
Something liquid flying to the lens
Certainly serious but never desperate
I know it's sort of wrong to behave like this
And when the saints go marching in
He's a devil in disguise
Hungry for a thousand kicks
Emulating humankind
Searching for my every bone
Just doing their thing
I count on you, the faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I count on you, the faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
I count on you, the faithfull ones
Following my every stroke
With nothing to hide, I know it's kind of wrong
I know it's kind of wrong
I know it's kind of wrong
I know it's kind of wrong
