When a menthol hit, hooks a spatial girl in her summer clothes,
When the night becomes, automatic sequence joining the day,
Like a transmission, on an empty channel, all lines are closed.
Taking photographs, speaking slowly through the permanent waves.
The taste in her mouth that she read about earlier today.
This is happening for your pleasure, at your leisure
This is happening for your pleasure, at your leisure
Use your evil, when you want...
When the night becomes, automatic sequence joining the day,
Singing something new, someone else is sliding into your way.
When a menthol hit, hooks a spatial girl in her summer clothes,
Like a transmission, on an empty channel, all lines are closed.
Got to get you off my conscience by Friday,
On Saturday I'll be wide awake, On Sunday
On Saturday I'll be wide awake, On Sunday
I'm your new best friend...
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