by Marc Gunn, April 11, 1997

One of my more silly songs. This one was born out of the idea of a man rejected through each of the body's senses.

When we French under the sun,
You can bite off my tongue (x2)
If you think I'll forget the taste of you.
But when you bite off my tongue (x3)
The memory of your sweet juice I'll recall anew.

I say you smell just like a rose.
So you plug up my nose (x2)
You fill both my nostrils with super glue.
But when you plug up my nose (x3)
Your sweet scent wafts right through.

Feel… whatchu got.
Feel… the beat get hot.
Feel… yourself a lot.
I feel…

Feel… whatchu got.
Feel… the music get hot.
Feel… this song rock.
I feel… myself inside of you.

The sight of you gives me butterflies.
So you poke out my eyes (x2)
You blind me to your beauty when my tummy flies.
But when you poke out my eyes (x3)
My heart is my window to see outside.

Your voice makes me cheer.
So you cut off my ears (x2)
Make me deaf to the chorus that my angel sings.
But when you cut off my ears (x3)
Like tinnitis in my ear your song forever rings.

Your touch gives me drive.
So you skin me alive (x2)
What's a man who feels supposed to do.
But when you skin me alive (x3)
Feel the rhythm of my heart that beats for you.