And me, I'm just a dilly boy
Fresh flower pressed Picadilly boy
Hands on hips, pout on lips
Meat, rag-tag like a dilly boy
He's the sweetest girl, the sweetest girl in the world
If I ever had a band, I'd call it the Nancy Boys. We'd write songs inspired on Plato's Symposium, the heavy metal lead and improper maiden aunts. Our wardrobe? Ill-fitting three-pieces, excess rouge and endangered animals.
I would be so proud.
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