Tralala, in your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure,
Deep greedy and Googling every corner.
Dead in the middle of the C-O-double-M-O-N,
Little did I know then that the Mandela Boys soon became Mandela Men.
Tall woman, pull the pylons down
And wrap them around the necks of all the feckless men that queue to be next.
Steepled fingers, ring leaders, queue jumpers, rock fist paper scissors, lingered fluffers.
In your hoof lies the heartland
Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure, les yeux, it’s all in your eyes.
In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure,
Deep greedy and Googling every corner,
Blended by the lights.
I cannot take this anymo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ore Saying everything I've said befo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ore All these words they make…
(Hey, you're really crazy... You know that?) I thought that I was calling up my…
I've been sucking morning Waiting for the beat I've been running circles Searching for the…