Endressed in apple skin
She tartelises herself quiet
A pretty core in her skin dress
She tartelises herself quiet
One day she was apple-blossom-fragile
And she walked through the town
She sugared her breasts in attempt to seduce a man
She snowied glucose up to her eyelashes
As a cloud tart
She didn't seduce anyone
She snowied glucose up to her eyelashes and said to herself
What good it is to slice in a rush
Three clouds on the way {x2}
"Ola pretty junkie," said a Spaniard
Who firmly believed
That she must be sniffing glue
She suddenly burst into tears
Like an open cloud
Spraying her chest with a never-ending river
Her dress suddenly started, started to shrink
Quickly turning her into a pathetic core
From a fast breastary
She tried to sketch but it was too late
Her chest was flattened
What good is it to slice in a rush
Three clouds on the way {x6}