Оригинален текст
If I dont have s-s-s-s-s-s-sex by the end of the week, Im g-g-g-going to die
If I dont feel a p-p-p-p-pair of s-s-s-soft l-l-l-l-lips on my own, oh, Im going to hang my head and cry.
If I dont feel w-w-w-warm breathe on the n-n-n-nape of my n-n-n-n-neck or feel a nice post-coital sigh
Cmon baby, you can tell the cops why
(Various oh ohs and yea yeas)
And ya dont know th-th-th-the ice ice cold vice that grips my head
And ya dont know th-th-th-the burning, the burning I feel when I try to get out of bed
And ya dont know how these urges, all these urges, can be so very very misread
Cmon baby, was it something I said?
(Various oh ohs and yea yeas)
When the sun, the stars up in the sky, you know its girl oclock
I dont know, but Ive been told its so, you know its good as gold, you know its tick tock ya dont stop.
If I dont have a n-n-n-n-nervous b-b-b-breakdown by the end of the week
Im going to be very, very surprised