Iīve got sunshine in the palms of my hands
generating slowly
into somekind of a wave of a trance
Iīm reacting madly
If I was home
I wouldnīt be late to tell you
`Cause sure I would like to burn
but if Iīm gonna burn
then it must be fire
but now it burns, burns, burns, burns
so it must be fire
but tell me love
ainīt this desire
I canīt tell love from desire
but it sure feels good
Must be something in the air that I breathe
that affects me wildly
and to put it as it makes my blood seethe
is to express it mildly
Oh no, oh no!
I wouldnīt dream of dreaming that dream...
`Cause sure I would like to burn
but if Iīm gonna burn
then it must be fire
but now it burns, burns, burns, burns
so it must be fire
but tell me love
ainīt this desire
I canīt tell love from desire
but it sure feels good
|