Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! I reckon Im a bit too close to this one I reckon if I touch it might just burn Fleshheads like me just wax and melt When my tongue touches tittys tongue in turn Sometimes pleasure heads must burn Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! My brain tricked my hands to believe they were strong In short, my hands became clubs to grind I reckon Im a bit too close to this one Kiss me darling, kiss my eyes to blind Kiss my clubs and witness what my knuckles find Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! Buuuuuurn! pop! pop! I feel a little low, you know what I mean? Buried neckhigh in British snow I reckon Im a bit too close to this one Shoot me darling, shoot me in the head and go Ya! ya! teeth gone. follow my trail back home Ya! ya! teeth gone. follow my trail back home Ya! ya! buuuuuurn! pop! pop! Etcetera
pop, buuuuuurn, reckon, ya, bit