There's a hand on a wire that leads to my mouth. I can hear you knocking but I'm not coming out. Don't want to be a puppet or a ventriloquist. 'Cause there's no ventilation on a critical list. Fingers creeping up my spine are not mine to resist. Strict time. Chorus:. Toughen up toughen up. Keep your lip buttoned up. Strict time. Oh the muscles flex and the fingers curl. And a cold sweat breaks out on the sweater girl. Strict time. Oh he's all hands don't touch that dial. The courting cold wars weekend witch trial. Strict time. All the boys are straight laced and the girls are frigid. The talk is two-faced and the rules are rigid 'cause it's strict time. Strict time. Chorus. You talk in hushed tones I talk in lush tones. Try to look Italian through the musical Valium. Strict time. Thinking of grand larceny. Smoking the everlasting cigarette of chastity. Cute assistants staying alive. More like a hand job than the hand jive. Strict time. Chorus. . .