Do you want to be an angel
Do you wanna be a star
Do you wanna play some magic On my guitar
Do you wanna be a poet
Do you wanna be my string You could be anything
Do you wanna be the lover of another undercover
You could even be the Man on the moon
Do you wanna be the player
Do you wanna be the string
Let me tell you something It just don't mean a thing
You see it really doesn't matter When you're buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes
Though your flesh has crystallised
Still...you turn me on

Do you wanna be the pillow Where I lay my head
Do you wanna be the feathers Lying on my bed
Do you wanna be the cover Of a magazine
Create a scene
Every day a little sadder
A little madder
Someone get me a ladder

Do you wanna be the singer
Do you wanna be the song
Let me tell you something You just couldn't be more wrong
You see I really have to tell you That it all gets so intense
From my experience It just doesn't seem to make sense
Still...you turn me on

- Emerson, Lake & Palmer

Yes, Still u turn me on