(The exertion of the dance, the excitement of Helen, and several beers have taken effect. Inhibition and caution are forgotten. When Helen suggests that they have a few more beers he's all for it. Why not? Everyone else is doing it. To refuse would be 'square,' and that terrible label must be avoided at all costs.)

Jeans were baggy, saggin' braggin' about some silly stuff we had

And no one listens in the kitchen fixin' up their hair

All the funny folks you bring around me, girl

But I never see you laugh

Sorry dear, you're far behind

At where it is you draw your line

Don't bring your circle 'round here

They're all a bunch of squares

They're all a bunch of squa-a-ares

Stupid bastards blasted tellin' me what's cool

Indie record label, check it, retro record player makin' more

You think you're hangin' with the winners, girl

'Cause you never seen 'em lose

I'm sorry dear, you're way behind

On where you choose to make your line

Don't bring your circle 'round here

They're all a bunch of squares

They're all a bunch of squares

All the little bimbos tip-toe to the middle of the room

Ain't going ga-ga for no product, Mama, nada, nothing new

Well, I said I'd see you later

So lets not make that soon

Sorry dear, you're far behind

At where it is you draw your line

Don't bring that circle around here

They're all a bunch of squares

[Break]

(If you want to swing - call him, right now he's got to split. Take a trip from Squaresville. Live a little and see what its like for yourself.)

Sorry dear, you're far behind

At where you choose to draw your line

Don't bring that circle around here

They're all a bunch of squares

(Get with it man and get with the countdown. Shake this square world and blast off for Kicksville.)