She likes it hot she likes a tan she steals my infra red 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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