I¡¯ve got two and more to show
|
I was dreaming of a mobile
|
that couldn¡¯t be mine
|
not without lyin
|
Was I feeling kind a silly
|
when I stepped in soakin beer
|
down the cola machine
|
Oh, stayin¡¯ seventeen
|
Well she claimed
|
she was a killer
|
and she owned a flood lit villa
|
a little aways
|
from the main highway
|
Oh take me way down yonder
|
<Interlude>
|
She was tall, thin and tarty
|
and she drove a Maserati
|
faster than sound
|
I was heaven bound
|
Although I must have
|
looked a creep
|
in my army surplus jeep
|
Was I being too bold
|
before the night could get old
|
No, no, no, no
|
She proved me so wrong
|
Oh the Italian girls sometimes
|
hold their religious habits
|
in front of your eyes
|
just to get you tied
|
Ah but not my little Bella
|
cause I did not have to tell her
|
I¡¯d rather you go
|
with the morning sun
|
she made me so tired
|
<Interlude>
|
She took me way,way
|
away down yonder
|
till I was gone
|
with the morning sun on my back
|
<Interlude>
|
Gotta get on back there
|
soon as I can
|
Take me there
|
<Interlude>
|
And I miss the girl so bad
|
She broke my heart
|
She broke my heart
|
She broke my heart
|
Gotta get on back there
|
soon as I can
|
I miss the girl
|
I miss the girl
|
I miss the girl so bad
|
I was a lot better off
|
|
-----------------
|
Italian Girls
|
Rod Stewart & The Faces |