Frenchy, I'm faking, been longing to stir you up.
Changing looks slightly like back in the 90s.
Far and away whistle delayed delights.
The prospect of lightning was ever so frightening.
I said your kisses are nice,
but I'm looking for hills to roll.
Down with abandon and no understanding.
I borrowed your suitcase and filled it with pearls and gold.
You let me down lightly.
I killed you politely.
