She likes it hot
She likes a tan
She steals my infra red when Im gone
Oh no can it be
Were heading for a heatwave

Her legs are brown
A trace of rust
Shes in love with a mkii deluxe
Oh no can it be were heading for a heatwave

Her hair is bleached like its been boiled
She browns herself in a sea of olive oil
And I come around and shes relaxing
In the conservatory