A letter to you on a cassette. 'Cause we don't write anymore. Gotta make it up quickly. There's people asleep on the second floor. . There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness.
She came from the Cocos Islands. With a limp and a snow-shaker, huh. Hocked by a fine Arabian ginger Monsignor. . He said, "You ain't get's nothing. 'Cause nothing gets made by Koreans".
What?. Say what?. Wot u got. . I bin to Spain. I bin to Rome. I bin to Madagascar. Wot u got gets me hot. . I bin to your place. I'm in my home. I bin to Madagascar.
Do, do, do, do, do, do. . Take it slow on a fragment of melody. Take it slow. And you'll find your way back to me. Take it slow. . Get out your music and dance with me.
I got a friend in Jesus, he's got a friend in me. He's a bit hung up on god, but we've agreed to disagree. Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, call you up at home.
I like lips and eyes and mouth and smooth soft skin. I got long fingers - gonna draw you in. So put on my moan and take off your clothes. Slide down slow beneath your belly I go.
This is a song I wrote by mistake. Which is nice. . My ex-girlfriend's boyfriend's got a band. He writes love songs about her, and from what I understand.
Chinese girl with knee-high socks. Spanish hips, she's Italian. She's a blacklamb. Mmm, she's a blacklamb. . She's a berry, she's a quince. She's a mango, she's a rambutan.