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Angeline, Angeline, do you think this bliss is going to last?
Gazing in your oval eyes, sipping sunbeam sodas from a flask.
And should someone call in on us, to share in our enjoyment, stay to tea,
we’ll show him round the garden, we’ll push him in the acid bath,
like the Smythes, like the Hydes, like the Jekylls, Syracuse, Syracuse,
I believe that I saw heaven this very day.
And as you lick my fingertips, I’m floating over Devon, far away.
And shouls someone burst in on me and spoil my meditation, god forbid,
we’ll lead them round the garden, push them into acid bath, like the Trevors.
Never see them round these days.
Angeline, Angeline, your perfume has me reeling, like your eyes.
And as the sun beats down on me, my skin in slowly peeling.
Wonder why.
And should Cupid himself drop by, to fire his silver arrows at our hearts,
we can take him round the garden and push him in the acid bath, like Apollo,
like Adonis, just like Zeus.
La la la la…