This is a story 'bout a man from Mars,
Who came down here, conquered all bars
and rocked his way right up to the stars,
And after the first note, he had won over all of our hearts..

He did it alone, well, he had eight hands,
Two for the microphone and six as a band,
And we were jealous, of course, 'bout your groovy force..

..And all the record-company bosses were like:
"ROCK'N'ROLL ALIEN!!
..Gotta-gotta-gotta get ya!
..Cannot-cannot-cannot let ya just walk away..

ROCK'N'ROLL ALIEN!!
..Gotta-gotta-gotta get ya!
..Got to find the way...to make you stay.."

Yeah, Ziggy used to play guitar, but now you're the star,
With all those beauties around you, those fancy cars,
But so many pressures, It's all so large..

Anywhere you go, someone's pulling your hands,
Was this really best place for you to land on,
So maybe you should just go back home,
even if the managers are like "Oh no no no.."

"ROCK'N'ROLL ALIEN!!
..Gotta-gotta-gotta get ya!
..Cannot-cannot-cannot let ya just walk away..

ROCK'N'ROLL ALIEN!!
..Gotta-gotta-gotta get ya!
ROCK'N'ROLL 'TIL THE END!!
..Got to find the way...to make you stay.."

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