Is this a c**aine summer? Or are you round about losing your belligerence? It is the sultan tumbler who double backs and gladly slaps the minister
Tis the fourth rate lover who takes a sovereign bow to settle down with laundry lint
It was the morning to pack up your life cause there's time to get it right around
A hilltop view where the lights go down
It sends him through the night to drown
Is it the stars we're under? Or are the silhouettes having s** with prisoners? As the hard wear hovers, have the service clapped and show your axe the visitor
The sheets will never forget
The cool fragrance of d**h
I'd like to shake your golden hand and see some signs
The further we sink our toes in the sand