(Ulrich Roth)

Fire in her eyes ... burn ...

Perfume of the skies ...

Fingers cold as ice ... freeze ...

Devil in disguise!



Well, she's a, she's a, she's a

You know that she's a hell-cat, hell-cat, hell-cat, hell-cat

(She's gonna scratch up your mind ...)

You know that guy with piccadilly-eyes

Was talking to the French boy

But didn't realize.

Banana-long-boat-eating

An' he tried to get a wife

But he couldn't stay alive

Well, you know that lad with the rubber-dad

Paints his fingers yellow, blue, and red.

An' you also know that she's a liar

Knowing only her desire ...