Pu-pupate, pu pate, Pu-pate, pu-pupate, pu pa-ate…
I should peddle butterflies There's a shortage in the city I'll stand on a street corner All mysterious and giddy When the passers-by pass by I will open up my trenchcoat They will see the butterflies Dangling like fake rolexes
Every morning i'll wake up With a purpose and a smirk I'll put on my fake moustache I'll drink heineken, eat cornflakes Then i'll call my mom and dad Tell them that i'm doing fine Or i'll write a tipsy letter To a real good friend of mine Or i'll jump up on the bed Waltzing madly with the broomstick But before i leave the house I will fill my lips with lipstick
But peddling is a dirty sport There's competition in the city Everyone is on a street corner All mysterious and giddy Some are selling bags and shoes Some are selling books and gold I've been standing here for days Not one butterfly's been sold
And how i'm aching to pupate... Aching to pup-p-p-pate (repeats 4x) Pu-pu-pate, pupate, Pupate, pu-pu-pate, pu pa-ate Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
