Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Ooh, the way you love me, lady,
I get so hard now I could die.
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die.

Open up your pocketbook,
get another quarter out,
drop it in the meter, mama
and try me on for size.
Open up your pocketbook,
get another quarter out,
drop it in the meter, mama
and try me on for size.

Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
red balloons just pop behind my eyes.
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
red balloons just pop behind my eyes.

Open up your pocketbook,
get another quarter out,
drop it in the meter, mama
and try me on for size.
Open up your pocketbook,
get another quarter out,
drop it in the meter, mama
and try me on for size.

Mark Volman:
Do you really wanna please me?

: Baby Are You Gettin Tired Of Me? Lyrics
Chorus Baby, are you gettin' tired of me? I can see the blossoms fallin' from the trees Like a love that used to be Baby are you gettin' tired of me? It was early in the Springtime I remember that our love was growing strong I guess Spring can't hold its promise
> Howard Kaylan:
Y'know I do ... baby.

Mark Volman:
Well, tell me why you do it...
I really wanna know.

Howard Kaylan:
Oh no no, I wouldn't be right
for me to tell ya tonight...

Mark Volman:
You better tell me right away
or I'll dress up and go.

Howard Kaylan:
Don't get mad... it ain't no big thing.

Mark Volman:
You better tell me right away,
don't you treat me cold!

Howard Kaylan:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!

Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd drag a girl such as yourself back to this plastic hotel room ... and rip you off for spare change to run a ...to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size, bulk-purchase, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed and, and make you take off all your little clothes ... until you are nearly stark raving nude. ( save for your chrome-with-heavy- duty-leather-thong Peace Medallion) and make you assume a series of marginally erotic poses involving a plastic chair and an old guitar strap while I did a wee-wee in your hair ... and beat you with a pair of tennis shoes I got from Jeff Beck...