He's laboring under the impression
That he's god's gift to women
He says I can make her toes curl
She says he only makes her skin crawl
She treats him just like a patient
With an overactive imagination
On and on about getting it on
When there's nothing getting done tonight
You know the type
With a mouth as loud as wide
Throwing his weight around
But he's as heavy as a sack of down
You know the score
You've seen it twenty million times before
There ought to be a law
Pertaining to his manner of discourse
He's laboring under the impression
That he's god's gift to women
He says I can make her toes curl
She says he only makes her skin crawl
She treats him just like a patient
With an overactive imagination
On and on about getting it on
When there's nothing getting done tonight
She wears his hat
Be it Panama, beach, or flat
Like a badge the tells the world
Hey everybody this is big boy's girl
Grown men grow weak
And their eyes heavy with sleep
When a boy want to tackle something heavy and deep
He's laboring under the impression
That he's god's gift to women
He says I can make her toes curl
She says he only makes her skin crawl
She treats him just like a patient
With an overactive imagination
On and on about getting it on
When there's nothing getting done tonight (X3)
[Thanks to ralphreinert for adding these lyrics]