Lyrics:
You're like a rollercoaster toast ya In a big four-poster bed You're such a puddin' I shouldn't I couldn't I'm a gorilla in a wooden keg Cruise
here, come closer Let me tie you to a four-poster Shotgun, pull it, put it in a holster (bang) Oh It's too late to get off this road I want you
porch this morning Sold off all his clothes Sold off his four-poster bed There were debutantes and old ladies breaking out in fights in the front row
and of pans maybe I’ll sail away if it rains again I’m here alone in this four-poster bed the wind is the music that’s caught in my head Dream of love through
the voice of my brother As they struck up that old angel band. ?Could I have your old ski boots and surf board? And maybe that four-poster bed? Would you
I'm awake but I can't yet see; An eager chiffchaff is heralding me. The image starts to form of a four-poster bed sprung in the clarts
girl and then some He remained an empty man, a shell of the life he once began Her lawyers ripped the man to shreds, on the grounds of his Four-poster
You lying naked on a four-poster bed With your eyes rolled back as if you were dead But you're not, you're warm And love forlorn And you want me
Yes, we're back carrying the fluffiness Hunting for petty heads Shaking up four-poster beds Your kitsch-deer can be seen wandering Headlessly through
of what once was Has been kicking up a fuss There’s a poltergeist of pure romance That makes our old four-poster dance Supernatural aid, supernatural aid
the four-poster, the pistol, The doll in her arms. “Oh Bloody hell!” he swears. She shouts at him, points the gun at him, And, with a digit on The trigger, she
table, on the bed Strapped to a four-poster giving him head Oh yeah! this is the life for me Down to his dungeon For a little session With his whip in hand
on Monday Moving to the country Fresh air and a four-poster bed And the birds are always singing Out for easy living Red racing car Oh, raise the bar
to be out of the running Glad he got away clean Workin' the land with dirt on his hands For his sweet Norma Jean They got a big old four-poster They
name’s little Jo the lady said She was five foot one And kept her Daddy’s gun Underneath her four-poster bed Ah, yes, she did… Before you kiss her Better
What if I said This four-poster bed Is all I've been holding on to? What if I lay And just fade away? I've got nothing to lose Oh, I, I need help I'm
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