| With their cardboard hands by their sides
|
| Here’s a naked man and lady
|
| And they’re yours to cut out and keep
|
| So you can dress them up maybe
|
| They don’t know just who they are, or who they’re
|
| Supposed to be
|
| You can make them happy or sad
|
| Or assume their identity
|
| So here they are in the departure lounge
|
| It’s the «Gateway to the East»
|
| She is just another mail-order bride
|
| She doesn’t know he’s a kinky beast
|
| So he gives her a picture of Maradona and child
|
| She wants to «roll and rock»
|
| As he spills his beer over her, bumps and he
|
| Grinds, as he repeats «Bang-Cock»
|
| There must be something that is better than this
|
| It starts with a slap and ends up with a kiss
|
| Begins with you bawling and it ends up in tears
|
| Oh my little one, take that chewing gum out of
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| Your ears
|
| She might as well be in the jungle
|
| She might as well be on the moon
|
| He’s away on a business trip, in Dusseldorf, but
|
| She’s becoming immune
|
| To the lack of glamor and danger in a West
|
| German city today
|
| The nearest she comes to the «Dynasty» he
|
| Promised her
|
| Is a Chinese takeaway
|
| Though he only taught her three little words, it
|
| Doesn’t matter if they’re dirty or clean
|
| He can only control what they look like
|
| He can never possess what they mean
|
| Now he wants to whisper in her ear
|
| All the shrinking nothingness
|
| But something always comes between them
|
| I wonder if you can guess |