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Sophisticated slave trade rhythmically admired |
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Give me a punctual bliss |
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He's in love with a velvet glove |
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Soon he'll feel the fist |
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His senses are reeling |
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He can't sit still |
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He's got that same old feeling |
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The same old thrill |
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The same old thrill |
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Goose flesh, giggling, stimulating scenes |
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Pleasure is a means to the end |
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Hedonistic high time |
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He can't get enough |
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Physical encounters can offend |
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Drinking like a fish out of water high and dry |
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When there's no tomorrow he doesn't even try |
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Don't take a walk, when it's easier to run |
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Don't take it easy |
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No don't take it |
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Don't you touch the flesh, the fragile flesh |
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He's never going to get near the heart |
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He can prodel, he can poke but it won't get him closer |
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He's only playing a part |
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Across the threshold he feels his nostrils flare |
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The stifling perfume is so thick in there |
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Don't take a walk, when it's easier to run |
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Don't take it easy, no don't take it |
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Don't take it easy, Don't take it easy |
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Don't take it, Don't take it |
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Don't take it, Don't take it |
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Don't take it, Don't take it |
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Don't take it, Don't take it |
|
Sophisticated slave trade rhythmically admired |
|
Give me a punctual bliss |
|
He's in love with a velvet glove |
|
Soon he'll feel the fist |
|
His senses are reeling |
|
He can't sit still |
|
He's got a sort of feeling |