|
You stood roadside |
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Long legs heels far too high |
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Looking like some perfect star |
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Who's the one this act is for? |
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You might scare young boys to death |
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With your backstreet cabaret |
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But I read you so long ago |
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The book's been out to play |
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'Cos you got no imagination |
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Though you look like a real fine breaker |
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No imagination |
|
A straight ride no Kama Sutra |
|
No bills name cards |
|
Fast love soft touch got it fast |
|
'Cos you think you've hit a hardline hook |
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You don't get no second looks |
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When you think you're boxin' clever |
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You don't never knock 'em out |
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I see you no more no |
|
What you're tryin' 'em out |
|
'Cos you got no imagination |
|
Though you look like a real fine breaker |
|
No imagination |
|
A straight ride on Kama Sutra |
|
No imagination |
|
Sterilized and medicated |
|
No imagination |
|
You stood roadside |
|
Long legs and those heels |
|
They scare young boys to death |
|
With your backstreet cabaret |
|
But I read you so long ago |
|
The book's been out to play |
|
You got no imagination |
|
Sterilized and medicated |
|
No imagination |
|
Open wide and get it finished |
|
No imagination |
|
Though you look like a real fine breaker |
|
No imagination |
|
Straight ride no Kama Sutra |
|
No imagination |
|
Sterilized and medicated |
|
No imagination |
