Lyrics:

Feeling kind of bonyOn the telephoneyTalking to MarconiEating Rice-a-RoniNominated for a TonyFor acting like a phoneyWatching Twilight ZoneyOn my forty-two inch SonyThis is just a long songIt ain't no poemLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeIt's like sitting in the kitchenWhen the music's really bitchin'Your nose it starts to itchin'As you count your old age pensionDid I forget to mentionThe ride that I was hitchin'To the Aluminum ConventionI had such good intentionKeep your cotton pickin' fingers offMy song poemAnd leave the lights on till your baby gets homeLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeDon't forget your toothbrushYour hairbrush and your combLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeGot a big ol' dogA chrome crowbarI keep that mother humper in the back seat of my carMe and Billy ShakespeareStepped out to get a root beerWe sat together so nearPeople thought we were queerPunctuated by the big scareWe joined the Air Force right thereTo defend our country first classWho couldn't give a rat's assDon't you tell me that the White House is my homeLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeDon't forget your toothbrushYour hairbrush and your combLeave the lights on till your baby gets homeGot a big ol' dogA big iron barI keep that mother humper in the back seat of my carIt's like kissing Greta Garbo with a mouth full of marblesLike trying to cash