For a boy in Fiddler's Green Oh nothing's changed anyway One, two, three, four, one, two September seventeen For a girl I know it's Mother's Day Her son has gone alee And that's where he will stay Wind on the weathervane Tearing blue eyes sailor-mean

The final countdown It's the final countdown It's the final count down (Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one) We're leaving together, But still it's farewell And maybe we'll come back To earth, who can tell?

Picked up where I left off, four-three-two-one lift off (yeah) Went to get the broom, I had to beat a bitch off (whoa) People get so crazy when you're rich and famous (ay) But I ain't no jackpot hoe, and this ain't Vegas Okay, let's get it Ay, don't be

Do the dance (do the dance) The way you move is a mystery You're always there for music and me Do the D.A.N.C.E. Stick to the B.E.A.T. Just easy as A.B.C. One, two, three, four, five Get ready to ignite You were such a P.Y.T.

You know I want cha (want cha) I know you want me (want me) I know you want me One-two-three-four Uno-do'-tres-cuatro Ella quiere su rumba (¿cómo?) Its Mr. 305 checkin' in for the remix

When you wanna be a movie star (c'mon) Play it right and drive a Volvo car (c'mon) Pick a fight at an airport bar Gimmie gimmie some of that vampire money c'mon One, two, three, four Everybody party 'til the gasman comes Sparkle like Bowie in the morning

Do do do do dodo do But now it's full of evil clowns It's time to start the countdown I'm gonna burn it down down down This used to be a fun house I'm gonna burn it down Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, fun I dance around this empty

Half empty plane on New Years Eve The pilot comes on, says the year is almost gone Five, four, three, two, one Looks like it's just me and the whiskey You ain't here to kiss me Five dollar drink and a lonely window seat Love birds in the row in front of

To the ground where you left my heart to bleed Your goin' down down down boy Five, four, three, two, one Bang! Bang! Bang! Boy! Your goin' down, down, down, boy Bang! she shot you. Karma tastes so sweet Karma tastes so bang bang bang boy Bang! she shot

In my bank account, yeah (oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God) I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight M's in my bank account, yeah (oh God) I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight shooters ready to gun you down, yeah