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Tra, la, la, in your snatch fits pleasure |
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Broom-shaped pleasure |
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Deep greedy and |
|
Googling every corner |
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Dead in the middle of the |
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C-O double |
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M-O-N Little did |
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I know then |
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That the Mandela |
|
Boys soon become |
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Mandela Men |
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Tall woman, pull the pylons down and wrap them around |
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The necks of all the feckless men that queue to be the next |
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Steepled fingers, ring leaders, queue jumpers |
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Rock fist paper scissors, lingered fluffers |
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In your hoof lies the heartland |
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Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure |
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Les yeux, it's all in your eyes |
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In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure |
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Deep greedy and |
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Googling every corner |
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Blended by the lights |
