Colamericana

Hey bushy bushy blonde hairdo with your butterfly eyes,
I say you’re nobody’s hero with your mafia ties.
You give me colamericana. You give me kisses from France
And, in the cattle market, an Aborigine dance
and I give you
Romantic lies, longing sighs, flowers for your hair.
There’s no getting through to this dead end dude
when spring is in the air.
Those subway nights and high rise sights
skyscraper away ooh yeh
And no stupid law, no law can take your pride away.
Hey sleazy sleazy go easy.
You’ve got your sycophant fans.
You come on all nice and bright and breezy.
You didn’t even give us a chance.
Your daddy’s good-looking,
well your mama says «He'll do».
Hey, what you got cooking?
I know I’m untrue but I’ll give you
Romantic lies, longing sighs, flowers for your hair.
There’s no getting through to this dead end dude
when spring is in the air.
Those subway nights and high rise sites skyscrape away, ooh yeh.
And no stupid law, no no law can take your pride.
Romantic lies, longing sighs, flowers for your hair.
There’s no getting through to this dead end dude
when spring is in the air.
No lonely night’s gonna make it right.
I scrape away ooh yeh.
And no law, no no stupid law can take your pride away.
Words and music copyright Graham Trust