The Key To Her Ferrari - Thomas Dolby and the Jazz Mafia Horns, Thomas Dolby

There was one room in her house that was always kept locked

It was the garage

I don’t want your love

Don’t want your money

I just want the key to your Ferrari

Don’t want your bed

I don’t want your body

I just want the key to your Ferrari

I’m gonna rip it, shine it, rev it

Scoot it, skid it, jam it

Rev it, skip it, gun it

Up and down the 101

Don’t want your love

Don’t want your money, girl

I said all I want is the key to your Ferrari

And then

And then I saw her

She was a bright red '64 GTO

With fins and gills like some giant piranha fish

Some obscene phallic symbol on wheels

Little rivers of anticipation ran down my inseam

As I kicked those five hundred Italian horses into life

And left reality behind me

Fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour… oh!

My hand slipped inside the belt of my trousers

As we passed eighty, ninety miles an hour

And as we hit the magic hundred, I

Yes, my love exploded all over her bright pink leather interior

And at that moment, I thought of my mother

Don’t need no drugs

Don’t need no liquor

Said all I want is the key to your Ferrari

Your ruby lips, pa (should be «Bah!»)

Your perfect figure, eech

I just want the key to your Ferrari

I’m gonna rev it, jam it, scram it

Rip it, tear it, bare it

Ram it, repair it, scoot it

Up and down the 101

Don’t want your love

Don’t want your money, girl

I said all I want is the key to your Ferrari

He’s gonna rev it, scoot it, skid it

Rip it, skip it, gun it

Brake it, zoom it, vacuum it

Up and down the 101

Don’t want your love

Don’t want your money, girl

I said all I want is the key to your Ferrari

Oh, I just want the key to your Ferrari

Cause aliens ate my Buick