This is Bob, he's a Virgo
He dreams at night of becoming a hero
He loves the feel of artificial fabrics
He'll never dance, he'll never dance but
He loves to wear his disco pants

Late at night, with his clothes on
He dreams of houses on fire on a hillside
His avatar is from 1994 so no one ever knows
That Bob has a combover
Bob has a combover

He breaks into the disco
He's lighting up the room
Zippo's out, he's smoking hot, smoking in
Burnin with desire to set it all on fire
Dreamin of a polyester choir and
A flaming ball of disco, a flaming ball of disco
Will make you burn

This is Bob and he loves science fiction
He likes his clothes to be devoid of friction
And in the twilight, he's burning up the chat room
With roller skates and gasoline
He longs to make the disco scream

I don't want to go to the disco; I just want to wear my disco clothes