She likes it hot She likes a tan She steals my infra fed when I'm gone Oh no can it be We're heading for a heatwave Her legs are brown A trace of rust She's in love with a MKII deluxe Oh no can it be we're heading for a heatwave Her hair is bleached like it's been boiled She browns herself in a sea of olive oil And I come around and she's relaxing In the conservatory
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