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Oh Roxy, don't you love me? Is it because I'm American? Maybe it's because I don't grope you and your friends Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants
Somewhere near the border of Spain and France A bottle of bad red wine in my head Sixty francs to look like a fool and dance Mechanics understand not what I said Thinkin' 'bout the time that I had, how sad Her one-word shirt describes my plight in red And her name is a reoccurring theme
Start a move that everyone knows, the awkward pose And in the meantime, her eyes finding me Reluctantly I start the approach, her eyes, they glow But it's not glee, it's fear - that's why she flees Sing of girls I wish that I knew Her eyes rung true, her one-word shirt now stabbing sparkling blue And her name is a barely flickering flame
Oh Roxy, don't you love me? Is it because I'm American? Maybe it's because I don't grope you and your friends Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants
Roxy's spinnin' around, or is it me that's down? How many fingers do I see? Is it three by now? Stands on top of the stairs and screams for who? Who cares? All that matters now is my eyes like Apollo's, become clear.
Somewhere near the border of pain and romance, Her name is undetermined as of yet Potential for a Roxy again has always been The hardest part to get out of my head Comes full circle all in the end, I hope Could one-word shirts in songs be just a joke? And her name is a never-ever-ending game
Oh Roxy, don't you love me? Why do I gotta be American? Maybe it's because I don't grope you and your friends Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants
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