[Intro]
One, two, three
[Verse 1]
Well, I want to try and hold my head up high
In this busted-up Pinto truck conversion between the broken concrete and the cloudy sky
Well, you have to make an effort with me
Can you make it look like you're chauffeuring me?
There's enough gas to get us home now if we glide
When we took this job I thought that you knew the deal
I told the boss we had a Mercedes-Benz but all we got in our yard is a steering wheel
Well, I can't borrow this tuxedo much longer
Well, we might have to cut and sell your long hair
I don't mind you wearing a wig but I won't steal
[Chorus]
Well, honey, we can't afford to look this cheap
[Bridge]
We need to make it look like we're high class, so we'll haul ourself on, we can't be beat
I can't help but wonder, this time next year, will we be drinking Dom Perignon or reheated beer?
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
We have to keep up appearances as long as we can
There's too much to lose, our social status, well, our ice machine, and our ceiling fan
And if they find out that we ain't real songwriters
That we go Dutch on cigarette lighters
We're going to lose the paradise that's in our hands
One, two, three
[Verse 1]
Well, I want to try and hold my head up high
In this busted-up Pinto truck conversion between the broken concrete and the cloudy sky
Well, you have to make an effort with me
Can you make it look like you're chauffeuring me?
There's enough gas to get us home now if we glide
When we took this job I thought that you knew the deal
I told the boss we had a Mercedes-Benz but all we got in our yard is a steering wheel
Well, I can't borrow this tuxedo much longer
Well, we might have to cut and sell your long hair
I don't mind you wearing a wig but I won't steal
[Chorus]
Well, honey, we can't afford to look this cheap
[Bridge]
We need to make it look like we're high class, so we'll haul ourself on, we can't be beat
I can't help but wonder, this time next year, will we be drinking Dom Perignon or reheated beer?
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
We have to keep up appearances as long as we can
There's too much to lose, our social status, well, our ice machine, and our ceiling fan
And if they find out that we ain't real songwriters
That we go Dutch on cigarette lighters
We're going to lose the paradise that's in our hands
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