We were all alone Then she bit my bone I said let's sell the phone Try to get away
I knew she was in heat She nailed at my feet Wet socks on the floor But it's all the same
Last year we got sick Doctors did the trick Now I gotta use a stick But it's still the same
Rough as a match-pad Dry as a cactus Oh, no You go home
Post policemen fill up day Student-teacher's license plates Eat my dinner, words are gone I feel slipped away
The moral is don't start Even if you're smart You don't have a chance It's all the same
Rough as a match-pad Dry as a cactus Oh, no You go home
(Maniacal laughter) Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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