| No copulation, no revolution
|
| Said the young Marquis de Sade
|
| But all the whips in France ain’t gonna get me
|
| Fuckin' on a barracade
|
| From the schoolboys on it was one big con
|
| As we hung around the hockey teams
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| In each boys brain the dream was the same
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| All I ever went to do is get laid
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| Now the whole wide world has a better idea
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| And it shook us all to the core
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| You follow some two-year fairy tale
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| Into happy evermore
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| The sleepy priest at the bridal feast
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| His hands make a holy sign
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| And as the bride hoes into the wedding cake
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| She’s a-singin' in the back of her mind
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| Come on, come on
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| I’m gonna roll ya all night long. |
| .
|
| Well I took that crap for a little while
|
| And it kept me off the street
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| Then I met me a lady with a shady past
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| And manners like a dog on heat
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| Those musos hummin' when they see her comin'
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| Make a noise like a hurricane
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| When you see that line at the dressing-room door
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| You know she’s just spread 'em for the boys again
|
| Well there ain’t nothin' better than to rip your sweater
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| In a bang behind the stage
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| Or the drawn out sigh as you feel her thigh
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| Then you stop and estimate her age
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| If she’s turned fourteen she’s a rock’n’roll queen
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| You can give her anything you choose
|
| And when she whispers Honey it’s the money or the box
|
| You know money’s so easy to lose
|
| Come on, come on
|
| I’m gonna roll ya all night long. |
| . |