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
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