seeing those short hairs so close
and smelling the stale odour of scent and sweat
yeah, I was overcome with desire for it
and reaching out my hands
I grabbed her sweet arse
I always get a kick out of Paris
I grabbed her cute arse so close
and sank my desperate mouth
at the heavy oily sex
why don’t they try a little harder back home
why don’t they
it all seems so much brighter here
on the rue Pigalle
Bond, James Bond
that’s what they call me
because I’m Ecossais
vive l’Ecosse, they say
it always seems more dirty
when I walk these streets
all I want to do is thing blue
yeah, shocking blue
I pass old hotels with sexy curtains
life, love and death gone by
a thousand times, why should I try
to change anything
I will get a kick out of Paris
mon di?Š seni?Š, anyambami
let it roll, let it roll
who is she
where’s the man, who saw the man
who saw the man, who saw the girl
I’m going crazy
Paris does that to me
blue, the only colour of sex
the only colour of my shirt and jacket
the only colour on the rue Saint-Jacques
she felt the seed stir at the pit of her belly
in response to my strong tonguing movements
mon di?Š seni?Š, anyambami [...]
Malcolm McLaren, mon di?Š s?Šni?Š.
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