You're not the prettiest girl in town, and I'm not the only boy with sullie clothes and a sullen frown, so to hell with Valentine's, to hell with perfume, to hell with chocolates and picnics and Sinatra tunes.
'Cause while the rest of the girls are drowning in roses and songs he composes, and while the rest of the guys are all trying so hard, oh girl, let's crash the party. El Dorado on the lawn (hey hey hey!). Let's burn holes in the carpets, kicking, shouting, dancing, on the tables all night long.
I'm not so good with sublety. You wouldn't say that I'm the picture of urbanity. Never put much stock in suavity or courtesy or chivalry or gallantry or all that useless jewelry.
But while the rest of the girls still sigh for the night he was smiling politely, and while the rest of the guys are all trying so hard, oh girl, let's crash the party. El Dorado on the lawn (hey hey hey!). Let's burn holes in the carpets, kicking, shouting, dancing on the tables all night long. All night long.