Fantasies...
Cute chicks on the bus, they all suck.
I'm tired of all the sex, I just wanna fuck.
Not even the act, 'cause I'm at a loss of energy:
I just wanna dress 'em up hot and feel the synergy
of two minds alike, intuition ready to strike
like lightning, metallic and salty on the tongue.
Just want a nibble like off an hors-deourve platter.
The eyes, the nose, the lips, it doesn't matter...
just let me run my fingers through her hair.
Grab a brush, lipstick, mascara and prepare
to see my inner vision placed upon her frame.
Transform your daily broad into one fine dame.
Mademoiselle, what the hell I might surprise you.
Show you some pride in a side you never even knew;
give you some class; frame that ass, highlight your skin tone,
you don't have to show cleavage to give a guy a bone.
I don't want to dress you up like a hooker;
I just want more people to see that you're a looker...
and when your look demands respect, you'll still be knockin' 'em dead...
just keep this little thought in the back of your head:
It wasn't Fairy Godmother, surgeon, or even a magician,
just your mysterious, (and handsome), bus riding beautician.
I'm tired of all the sex, I just wanna fuck.
Not even the act, 'cause I'm at a loss of energy:
I just wanna dress 'em up hot and feel the synergy
of two minds alike, intuition ready to strike
like lightning, metallic and salty on the tongue.
Just want a nibble like off an hors-deourve platter.
The eyes, the nose, the lips, it doesn't matter...
just let me run my fingers through her hair.
Grab a brush, lipstick, mascara and prepare
to see my inner vision placed upon her frame.
Transform your daily broad into one fine dame.
Mademoiselle, what the hell I might surprise you.
Show you some pride in a side you never even knew;
give you some class; frame that ass, highlight your skin tone,
you don't have to show cleavage to give a guy a bone.
I don't want to dress you up like a hooker;
I just want more people to see that you're a looker...
and when your look demands respect, you'll still be knockin' 'em dead...
just keep this little thought in the back of your head:
It wasn't Fairy Godmother, surgeon, or even a magician,
just your mysterious, (and handsome), bus riding beautician.