Cruisin the mall life.    Front pocket full of green, shoppin for a wife    I bought a food-court stare    With corndog sighs and lemonade hair       She was a girl with credit card dreams    Of precious gold coast means,    Silent plastic screams    Then she said       Oh are you looking for Urbia?    Oh are you not so happy here?    Oh are you looking for Urbia?    Oh I hear it's great this time    It's great this time of year.       Cruisin the salle de bains    I fired up to wash my hands    Bumped into a red-eyed dude    He had a peach fuzz stash, and hair like the Nuge       Misconceptions brought him here    He said I lost my job, and nobody cares    Smokey, Trans-Am dreams.    Then I said       Ah are you looking for Urbia?    Ah are you not so happy hear?    Ah are you looking for Urbia?    Ah I hear it's great this time    It's great this time of year.       And you never thought he could be pretty enough for you, with his hawk's nose and peacock's hair, until he saw a sign that said, "Don't Despair, We've Got Your Flair." So he went in there and stared at a pair of jeans he'd only seen on the cover of your favorite magazine. And a bleach blond servant brought a matching shirt and socks and belt and fly new walks. And as he left, I caught a glimpse of the dude, and I have to say, well, he was prettier than you. I know it sounds absurd, but understand, I was ready for the world.       And I've been trying to call you    Let's go to the mall    And I've been trying to call you, call you,    yeah    And I've been trying to call you    Let's go to the mall    And I've been trying to call you, call you,    yeah