I love this real man,
The kind death that each rag believe.
Eloquence he heard,
And looks that may of women.
My woman Sonny,
I´m silverbread a serves me well.
He keeps my smile and
to this week hasn´t broke my roads.
And worried soul
don´t say a sorry,
Heaven knows, you ain´t so promissing.
when you think of me,
Heaven knows, you ain´t so genering.
That real my has it
the damn no twelve if as you thought.
And yourself confused
because you said about love with me.
And about it wood.
Well Sonny. . . etc.
/ interlude /
Well Sonny. . . etc. / x 2