| Who’s that sister, mader her own space
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| She’s got moondust in her 'fro
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| Damn we miss her sugarsome face
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| Wistful, moonbeam sense to go
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| Six months later she steamed up the van
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| We got no small surprise
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| Moonbeam woman sits on her hand, a naughty sparkle in her eyes
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| Daisy Lady, come flyin' out my hand
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| Daisy Lady, Playmate of the land
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| Late arrival, never been kissed
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| Strode up sneaking in tongues
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| Settled nicely up to the wrist
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| Grinding to the bass and the drum
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| Three years later she’s back in her stride
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| Down Full Circle doin' the bump
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| Lovely Lady, up on her feet
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| She’s getting over the hump
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| Daisy Lady, come flyin' out my hand
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| Daisy Lady, Playmate of the land
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| That poor old poet didn’t know so
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| But she cooked the wrong goose
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| She should have lapped it up
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| And licked it like we do with that juice
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| And if you ask her she just shrugs
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| And digs the life that she chose
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| My moonbeam woman, she sure 'nuff gets some when her cup overflows
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| Can’t stop, won’t stop, rockin' to the lady 'cuz I get down and I go down |