Another case where I think some of the lines were actually improved by Babelfishing. Though the syllable count is all off: this version might be tougher to sing.
Speaking of strip clubs: Norah Vincent's book Self-Made Man has a great chapter on them. Plus, even though it was promoted on a trashy ABC newsmagazine that shall remain nameless, it's actually a pretty smart read. Run, don't walk.
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Good: the individuals come in force,
and these individuals are all the same.
Don't you examine their persons,
and don't ask their names.
Don't think like a person;
by all means, don't think, no.
Keep your brain in. They are the money that you
keep in the wall; they are your eyes.
[chorus] I'm the private dancer,
your dancer for money.
He makes me; I'll make you what you order.
I'm your private dancer,
a dancer for the money,
and he will make any old music.
I want to make a million dollars, and
live outside, marinely. I want to
have a spouse and certain children,
I suppose. (Yes, I want a family.)
All the individuals come,
and the individuals are all the same.
Don't examine their persons, and
don't ask for their names.
[chorus two times]
Deutschmarks or dollars?
Beautiful Americans will make it explicit – thank you.
He allows me to relax above your collar;
he says, again, that he wants to make you see within the shimmy.