CHORUS:
Stay outta my space.
if you're a member of the human race,
stay outta my space.
Unless you're someone I might care to embrace
stay outta my space.
Unless we're running to first or second base
stay outta my space.


I don't wanna see the pores on your face.
I don't wanna watch 'em open and close.
Though there are just a few,
I don't wanna count the hairs in your nose.
Eww!

I'm at the gym, approaching seven treadmills.
one and seven are occupied by people thinking,
"Stay outta my space."
While I'm choosing, a big guy passes me.
If he takes three, I'll take five;
the four of us'll be two treadmill apart.
If he takes five, I'll take three;
the four of us'll be two treadmills apart.
But he is a greedy.
He takes four.
The greedy bastard!
So everybody who's already there is three treadmills apart,
but what about me?

What can I do?
No matter which I take,
I'm next to someone.
My workout's ruined.

I take three.
The greedy guy give me a dirty look: Stay outta my space!
I hope he hates the hairs in my nose.
I hope that my deodorant fails.
I hope that his doesn't.

(CHORUS)

I don't wanna one-on-one interface.
I don't want to smell these people's colognes.
And lest you misconstrue,
I don't wanna smell type two pheromones.
Eww!

Three girls, in neon sports bras (chatting, chatting, chatting),
About their kids,
About their jobs,
The books they're reading,
Next year's elections --
They approach the treadmills.
One takes two; the others five and six and keep on chatting.
Not about boys.
(They keep on chatting.)
Not about clothes.
(Chatting, chatting, chatting)

I try to ignore them;
(The keep on chatting.)
And focus on FOXNews:
(Chatting, chatting, chatting)
Trump good.
(They keep on chatting.)
Hillary bad.