Apple between my needle eye
my new york kinda guy
The sweetest tasting lie
You're my chocolate butterfly
Like blue cheese on rye
my science without the Nye
(yea right between my thigh)
Make me say aye-yay-yay
Sweet mocha butterfly
You're my deepest low to my high
A kinda sexy coloured dye
like granny's sweet potato pie
oh my my my, ah cant' lie
you sure is fly
but why oh why
you keep passing me by?
(and now he's leaving, good-bye)
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