She wasn’t damned
It’s a luck of faith she was born
As a French and all the glam
Of this world is meant for her.
She’s so keen
But I know that she’s really bored.
Her skin is really thin,
It merely holds all the whoredom.

 [bad word] 
Cry, cry, cry French girl.
I like to see tears drip from your fine curls
Girl, girl, girl.

French girl has
Dolce Gabbana fancy dress
But her soul is a frightful mess
Dirty mess that you can’t suppress [bad word] and see
Don’t touch with dirty hands
How pure the soul can be
When the hate is all that it has

 [bad word] 

Hu-huh
Here goes the glamour
Hi, Eiffel tower
You’ll go bananas, be torn into pieces.

 [bad word]