by XTC
She likes it hot She likes a tan She steals my infra-red When I'm gone Oh no can it be We're heading for a heatwave Her hair is bleached Like it's been boiled She browns herself In a sea of Olive oil And I come around And she's relaxing In the conservatory She's born to brown She's born to rust She's in love With a Mark II deluxe Oh no can it be We're heading for a heatwave