Lyrics
My latest luck has left meMy lady fucked off at my behestShe went to Rome to get a much-needed bit of restI broke my little glue gunShe washed her hands and toes of the glue that we were stuck inNow she's sipping cappuccinosWith some Roman galivanter gifted in soothing banterHe's cooing his sticky catch-phrases He's singing Italian praisesShe's had it with glue-gunneryShe's ready for the nunneryMaybe she'll see the Vatican and never be so sad againSome Roman galivanter gifted in soothing banterHe's cooing his sticky catch-phrases while life decays in phasesShe washed her hands and toes beneath the Ceasar's frescoesWith who, God only knowsI broke my little glue gunWith some Roman galivanter, son of an olive planterHe's cooing his sticky catch-phrases, singing Italian praises Beneath the Ceasar's nose, she washed her hands and toes With who, God only knowsI broke my little glue gun
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