Backside

The boy stood on the burning stage, his back against the mast
He did not dare to turn around till Davy Bowie passed
The stardust painted round his eyes was really fading fast
Oh but I think I’m going to come again
Oh but I think I’m going to come again
The spiders from Uranus were climbing up the walls
With such a space (?) the oddity, his fey libido calls
But the people in the front row can only see his smalls
Oh but I think I’m going to come again
Oh but I think I’m going to come again