I'm dying for you just to touch me, And feel all the energy rushing right up-a-me. L'amour looks something like you.

You look like an angel, Sleeping it off at a station. Were you only passing through?

Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me...

You came out of the night, Wearing a mask in white colour. My eyes were shining On the wine, and your aura.

Touch me, hold me. How my open arms ache! Try to fall for me.

Transforma-se o amador na cousa amada, Por virtude do muito imaginar; Nao tenho, logo, mais que desejar, Pois em mim tenho a parte desejada.

I leaned right over to kiss your stoney book A little jealous of the ships with whom you flirt A billion lovers with their cameras Snap to look and in my fanta…