I, I, I'm uneducated, my clothes outdated. I don't stand politically correct. I still hate small talk, dig fast cars and hard rock. Still like talkin' about sex, sex, sex, sex.
On a cold night in a hotel in New Orleans. Came the final blow. And somehow, somewhere we lost sight. In our search for that pot of gold. . And all that happened I don't understand.
A verdict heard by the jury's word, they're lying. I watch as the victims of the slave ships battle with the demons inside. But no wrong ever righted or proved by the innocent dying.
When I lost my way. You were my light. When the others wronged me. You did me right. . When I look in your eyes. Don't tell me lies. You tell me the truth.
You're my fatal attraction. Oh, no, I can't stop. You're my midnight fantasy. You're my cream of the crop. . I'm comin' home girl. I'm comin' home. . You're my soaking wet ecstasy.