Frenchy, I'm faking, 
Been longing to stir you up, 
Changing looks slightly like back in the '90s, 
Far and away whistle delayed delights. 

The prospect of lightning was ever so frightening, 
I said your kisses are nice, 
But I'm looking for hills to roll, 
Down with abandon and no understanding. 

I borrowed your suitcase and filled it with pearls and gold, 
You let me down lightly, 
I killed you politely