Small wonder you've matured from her

She's gone now, back in England

She got spirit, will go farther

But she can't see the romance in the colour of your schemes

The colour of your schemes . . . oh



But you know and I that all girls are fly

And all men must die for their cars



Why blunder? There's no wonder

You've been feeling six foot under

Make it happen, you - it could happen

But don't forget to turn the light off if you're last to leave

If you're last to leave here



Cause you know and I that all girls are fly

And all men must die for their cars



And you know and I that all men are fly

And all girls must die, or something