La Foule Lyrics - Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, A Paris - Martha Wainwright

Got your hand up all in my shirt 

And you know that it hurts 

Ball and chain, my ball and chain 

Crossing the street you look so fine 

Making up everything that's in my mind 

Ball and chain, ball and chain 

You are the same with 

Your balls and your chains 

Bend me over the back of the car seat 

Take me down to Easy Street 

Ball and chain, ball and chain 

You are the same with 

Your balls and your chains 

Oh yeah, oh yeah 

Why does this always happen? 

Why does this always happen? 

Why? Why? Yeah 

Yeah, her tits were higher than mine 

With a waist that is sugar-fine 

I heard she could read and write too 

And she's getting a degree in fucking you 

Sexual psychology 

It's easier than philosophy 

It's easier than chemistry 

Where's my chemistry? 

Why does this always happen? 

Oh why does this always happen? 

Why? Why? Why?