She likes it hot
She likes a tan
She steals my infrared
When I'm gone
Oh no can it be
We're heading for a heatwave
Her hair is bleached
Like it's been boiled
She browns herself
In a sea of olive oil
And I come around
And she's relaxing
In the conservatory
She's born to brown
She's born to rust
She's in love
With a Mark 2 deluxe
Oh no can it be
We're heading for a heatwave
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