That's the ticket, baby!
Yeah, That's the ticket, baby!
Yeah, Yeah, That's the ticket, baby!
Yeah Yeah, that's the ticket, baby!
That's the ticket, baby!
I cut my credit cards in two
You crossed me off your list
Of things to do
Like the picture of your Dad's
Best Friend, when you were ten
I got a feeling you'll be sitting
On his lap again
You been running with the wrong crowd
You think you know where it's at
You don't wanna grow up to be like that
You don't wanna grow up to be like the
Likes of that
In the New York Times and the Vanity Fair
You were just another bird
And the beast was there
In Trump Towers he proved to be
So sensitive and real
You got to touch his boyhood teddy
You got to touch his electric eel
You been running with the wrong crowd
Ah, you think you know where it's at
You don't wanna blow-up!
I got to tell you about the hippest
Of the hippest types
His custom-made lapel with stars
And the stripes
When Mister America is tired
When Mister America is taking his nap
I'm gonna blow all fifty states
Right off of that old boy's map
You been running with the wrong crowd
You been running with the wrong crowd
You been running with the wrong crowd
You think you know where it's at
You don't wanna grow up to be like that
You don't wanna grow up to be like that
You don't wanna grow up to be like that
You don't wanna grow up to be like that
Likes of... Yikes!
You don't wanna grow up
You don't wanna grow up
You don't wanna grow up
You don't wanna grow up