We looking for them J-Lo booties, big ol' ass, round and fat Let me squeeze it, let me squeeze it When she take it to the floor, I want to hit it from
Anton Oh Anton, You're such a dick head, Do you really think you're the lord of satanism? But your orgies, we spit on those Squeeze Anton, the fake satanist
I feel like I'm pounding on a big door No one can hear me knocking I feel like I'm falling flat to the floor No one can catch me from falling The hourglass
The case was pulled from under the bed She made a call to a sympathetic friend and made arrangements The door was closed, there was a note I couldn?t
853-5937 Angela can't make it to the phone If you care to leave your name and number She'll give you a ring when she is home Every time I called her
Mary and Joseph drove into town Searching for a place to stay The moon was up and his foot was down A miracle was on its way They tried the hotels, the
I wrote her name on a bar-mat, she had a peculiar bonnet But a youngish damsel figure, with her tongue tied to a trigger She seemed a total killer, her
She sat at the dressing room table He flicked through the channels on cable While talking of love in whispers Voices humming like dusty transistors (
Somethin's happenin' to me, deep in my heart Really can't imagine what is tearing me apart Got a spell on me, must be your way I'm acting really pitiful
You've left my ring by the soap Now is that love? You cleaned me out you could say broke Now is that love? The better better better it gets The more
Tell her try her best just to make it quick Woman tend to the sick Because there must be something she can do This heart is broken in two Tell her it'
Who's that kissin' in the corner? And who's that talkin' on the phone? Who's that smilin' like a soldier? And why you tellin' me to go? Who's that drinkin
(Difford/Tilbrook) Malicious gossip will never profit When hearsay is its foundation There are subscribers whose appetizers Are pieces of conversation
Sherman Tanks and Tommy Guns Telegrams and hot cross buns See the Gerrie's on the run Battleships, well, here I come Commando raid in bed tonight Under
There's a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was And there's ash in the pages now I've got myself lost I was writing to tell you that my feelings
(Difford/Tilbrook) You can't hurt the girl with ignoring her presence She stands behind you as you do your impressions Of Jack the Lad with your
I could smell the rain Dripping through the fresh cut grass I could spell your name On the wet and steamed up glass But you were just a name, a face
What's wrong with this picture? Her eyes are like moons It's just like looking In two empty rooms She's looking so fragile As thin as an eel What's wrong