The show begins, imagining
the most private parts of your anatomy,
begging offers to the gods on their knees.
You continue with murderous looks
offended feline,
Nice to meet you,
raising the forehead
Chemistry in danger
and the dress, of a professional sinner.
From p *** o de beata,
lovely both
Tell me who you are with,
I'll tell you who you end up with
Nesting nits,
Nesting nits.
You surrender to the gods.
To men, not names.
At least tonight,
you will lose your privacy
Discretion is a great quality
what is scarce these days
of loves of covered paper magazine.
Supply and demand is what commands,
and as the holy mother goes,
Better late than tomorrow.
That you do not go the way
nor the murmur of rum,
that we can make so much love by being together
nesting nits, nesting nits.
It would be absurd, as is the world,
waste us like that,
that for the war we have Bush.
For peace we are the volunteers,
missionaries of the pubis and the bra,
princess pilgrims without a castle,
Knights of the Holy Grail
and the great crusade,
always unfinished of your cause.
Do not be false, you're not,
and surrender to pleasures,
that are not mine alone,
nesting nits, nesting nits, nesting nits, nesting nits.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)