Privates (The)
Cha-cha-cha
I want nothing moreThis stage, this trap is setThe whistle boredPlease put down you betsSometimes the walls will bendBut we won't make our minds' decisions thenHe's sitting up and talking in his sleepSkim the top before this gets too deepI want nothing lessThe floor, the tabletopsThey must confessYou wore the finest cropSometimes the sea will partBut I won't change my mind before season's start You're throwing off the covers, we'll be foundPull the top before we hit the ground
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