My prairie sun, fiddle di dee,
Come, test your fingerwork on me.
O, hit your note upon my string.
Come, test your fingerwork on me.
O, hit your note upon my string.
Hear what fine melodies we sing.
Four seven six four miles apart -
Four seven six four miles apart -
Imperial; the measured heart.
You call the tune. You play me well.
You’ve got me craving IRL.
I long to sniff. I long to taste,
To wrap my limbs around your waist,
To kiss that part-Brit lip, so stiff,
(Spread stiffness with my British whiff).
You’ve turned me on with mentalese.
It drives me wild, that way you tease
With words and torments. smart and hot.
yer gettin in me head…a lot.
But though you hide, I see you true;
Glimpse real me with real you.
So blush, my virtual burka boy,
And blow my mind with clever-coy.
Plus ça la meme chose, plus ça change.
You call the tune. You play me well.
You’ve got me craving IRL.
I long to sniff. I long to taste,
To wrap my limbs around your waist,
To kiss that part-Brit lip, so stiff,
(Spread stiffness with my British whiff).
You’ve turned me on with mentalese.
It drives me wild, that way you tease
With words and torments. smart and hot.
yer gettin in me head…a lot.
But though you hide, I see you true;
Glimpse real me with real you.
So blush, my virtual burka boy,
And blow my mind with clever-coy.
Plus ça la meme chose, plus ça change.
La langue d’amour amène des mots étranges.
Le lapin blanc que je suivis,
Il disparut, mais le voici!
Je pense qu’il est un rêve, n’est ce pas?
Je pense qu’il est un rêve, n’est ce pas?
Jusqu’a je t’embrace dans mes bras.
Cet homme qui parle très loin d’ici,
Est-ce qu’il un fantôme, ou vrai, ce «lui»?
«Qu’Appelle?»
Écoute bien, car je sais:
«Elle» est une petite femme anglaise.
Mais, Thomas, tu me manques, alors
Mon
cher, dis-moi: tu m’aimes encore?
Mais, Thomas, tu me manques, alors
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