Tekst
Born in the desert
Of the upper east side
There was a guy
Who wants to party
Every day every night
Dressed like a martin
Curly hair shining bright
He got no money
He got no girlfriend
He was feeling alright
Rick in the jeans
Not with his head on the wall
But too bad he had to wait
Until it's going to fall
And after all he felt he's one of the best
The time was right to take a paper car
Escape to the west
Rick, you crash the party
We are waiting for an answer
But you think it's alright
Rick, please don't worry
You're invited every day
But not on saturday night
Oh oh, oh oh
We think the time's not right
No doubt about we love you
Not on saturday night
He is the god
Of his computer scene
He wants the cover picture
Of the apple magazine
But in the end
He has to face the fact
That even pussies do it better
So he lost respect
If you want him to stay
You have to beg and to pray
Until the end of the day
He is so boring and he's so gay
Rick, you crash the party
We are waiting for an answer
But you think it's alright
Rick, please don't worry
You're invited every day
But not on saturday night
Oh oh, oh oh
We think the time's not right
No doubt about we love you
Not on saturday night
So our Rick is the boy
With the armless toy
And his sore feet has no beat
He looks like a double
Of mister Hyde
Or a dozen of stinking meatballs
Everybody knows
He's ready for the job
Of the president of madson
If you know him like your mother
Like a homo with a gun
So run cause there's no fun
If you want him to stay
You have to beg and to pray
Until the end of the day
He is so boring and he's so gay
Rick, you crash the party
We are waiting for an answer
But you think it's alright
Rick, please don't worry
You're invited every day
But not on saturday night
Oh oh, oh oh
We think the time's not right
No doubt about we love you
Not on saturday night
