| Toe to toe, dancing very close |
| Body breathing, almost comatose |
| Wall to wall, people hypnotized |
| And they’re stepping lightly |
| Hang each night in rapture |
| Back to back, sacroiliac |
| Spineless movement and a wild attack |
| Face to face, sightless solitude |
| And it’s finger-popping |
| Twenty-four hour shopping in rapture |
| Fab Five Freddy told me everybody’s fly |
| DJ’s spinning, I said «My, my.» |
| Flash is fast, flash is cool |
| François, c’est pas flashé non due |
| And you don’t stop, sure shot |
| Go out to the parking lot |
| And you get in your car and drive real far |
| And you drive all night and then you see a light |
| And it comes right down and it lands on the ground |
| And out comes the man from Mars |
| And you try to run, but he’s got a gun |
| And he shoots you dead and he eats your head |
| And then you’re in the man from Mars |
| You go out at night eating cars |
| You eat Cadillacs, Lincolns, too |
| Mercurys, and Subaru |
| And you don’t stop |
| You keep on eating cars |
| Then when there’s no more cars |
| You go out at night |
| And eat up bars where the people meet |
| Face to face |
| Dance cheek to cheek |
| One to one |
| Man to man |
| Dance toe to toe |
| Don’t move too slow |
| 'Cause the man from Mars is through with cars |
| He’s eating bars |
| Yeah, wall to wall |
| Door to door |
| Hall to hall |
| He’s gonna eat 'em all |
| Rapture |
| Be pure |
| Take a tour through the sewer |
| Don’t strain your brain |
| Paint a train |
| You’ll be singing in the rain |
| Said don’t stop, do the punk rock |
| Well, now you see what you want to be Just have your party on TV |
| 'Cause the man from Mars won’t eat up bars where the TV’s on Now he’s gone back up to space |
| Where he won’t have a hassle with the human race |
| And you hip hop |
| And you don’t stop |
| Just blast off |
| Sure shot |
| Because the man from Mars stopped eating cars |
| And eating bars |
| And now he only eats guitars |
| Get up Man to man, body muscular |
| Seismic dancing, move, bite the jugular |
| One to one, teatime technology |
| And a digital add-up |
| No sign of bad luck in rapture. |