(Sometimes) Pleasure Heads Must Burn

Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop!...

I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one
I reckon if I touch it might just burn
Flesh-heads like me just wax and melt
When my tongue touches titty's tongue in turn
Sometimes pleasure heads must
Bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop!

My brain tricked my hands to believe they were strong
In short, my hands became clubs to grind
I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one
Kiss me darling, kiss my eyes to blind
Kiss my clubs and witness what my knuckles find

Pop! pop!...

I feel a little low, you know what I mean?
Buried neck-high in British snow
I reckon I'm a bit too close to this one
Shoot me darling, shoot me in the head and go

Ya! ya! teeth gone, follow my trail back home...
Ya! ya! bu-u-u-u-u-u-rn! pop! pop!...