A Kick To Kill The Kiss

He’d like you to call him lucky
The original self-made man;
No sense of wide-screen vision
No gender strangeness he can understand
Roll on the old, old story
You can call it original sin;
Yeah, stamp that one in his passport
Paste it and colour it in
Colour in a history of pride and prejudice;
What he wants is mystery, but what he gets is this:
A kick to kill the kiss
He thinks it fair competition
Somehow having and eating the cake
When the women are in their bodies
And the men are all over the place
What he wants is Paradise, of which he has no clue
What he wants: Oblivion. («…Baby, all I want is you.»)
What he wants and what he needs are very different tricks…
Got some strange philosophy through going for that dictionary tic
And the kick of kiss-me-quick
A kick to kill the kiss
And he says
«Baby, all I want is you.»