Screeching Weasel
Too Worked Up
Each night I see her there
The window shows her there
But she said it's all right
If I watch her every night
As she lays down and goes to work
While I hope for a glimpse
Of what she will not let me have between her thighs

Puts on a show for me
A movie just for me
She says, "Look but don't touch"
But she's asking too much
If she'd just let me walk across the street
I'd finally get more than a peek
At what's there in between her thighs
In between her thighs

She's moving faster now
I'm moving faster now
Thoughts about my face
Inside her thighs' embrace
Are dancing in my brain, I get worked up
I get too worked up
Wanting, needing what's there in between her thighs
In between her thighs