歌词
Harry was a rich young man who would become a priest
He dug up his dear father who was recently deceased
He did it with tarot cards and a mystically attuned mind
And shortly there and after he did find
Jeanne was a spoiled young brat, she thought she knew it all
She smoked mentholated cigarettes, and she had sex in the hall
But she is not my kind or even of my sigh
The kind of animal that I would be about
Oh-oh-oh, you keep hanging 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Oh-oh-oh, you keep hanging 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Alright now, uh-uh-uh
Cathy was a bit surreal, she painted all her toes
And on her face she wore dentures clamped tightly to her nose
And when she finally spoke her twang, her glasses broke
And no one else could smoke while she was in the room
Hark, the herald angels sang and reached out for a phone
And plucking it with ivory hand, dialed long distance home
But it was all too much, sprinkling angel dust to AT&T
Who didn't wish you well
Oh, but you keep hanging 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Oh-oh-oh, you keep hanging 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Hanging 'round, hanging 'round
That's all you're doing, baby
Hanging 'round, hanging 'round
Hanging 'round, hanging 'round
Hanging 'round, hanging 'round
