One night I was
Moping
In some English pub
From the heart of London
Traveling through Love My
Stre de Pauwels
Me came a vision
In the seltzer water
While miles
Of imptor
Make your waist shine
Bronze and gold
Platinum engraves it
With a cold circle
The mark of the slaves
On each finger
Up to the top of the thighs
She is booted And it's like a chalice
To her beauty she protects nothing
Other than a little
Guerlain essence
In the hair
With each movement
We could hear
The silver bells
From her wrists
Shaking her bells
She moves forward And pronounces this word

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