Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one I reckon if I touch it might just burn Flesh-heads like me just wax and melt When my tongue touches titty's tongue in turn Sometimes pleasure heads must burn Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! My brain tricked my hands to believe they were strong In short, my hands became clubs to grind I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one Kiss me darling, kiss my eyes to blind Kiss my clubs and witness what my knuckles find Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! I feel a little low, you know what I mean? Buried neck-high in british snow I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one Shoot me darling, shoot me in the head and go Ya! ya! teeth gone. follow my trail back home. Ya! ya! teeth gone. follow my trail back home. Ya! ya! bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop! Etcetera.
Version imprimable
