| She’ll come, she’ll go. |
| She’ll lay belief on you
|
| Skin sweet with musky odour
|
| The lady from another grinning soul
|
| Cologne she’ll wear. |
| Silver and Americard
|
| She’ll drive a beetle car
|
| And beat you down at cool Canasta
|
| And when the clothes are strewn don’t be afraid of the room
|
| Touch the fullness of her breast. |
| Feel the love of her caress
|
| She will be your living end
|
| She’ll come, she’ll go. |
| She’ll lay belief on you
|
| But she won’t stake her life on you
|
| How can life become her point of view
|
| And when the clothes are strewn don’t be afraid of the room
|
| Touch the fullness of her breast. |
| Feel the love of her caress
|
| She will be your living end
|
| She will be your living end
|
| She will be your living end
|
| She will be your living end
|
| She will be your living end |