Heat, cold, leather, what
Touch, she, may, feel
Wrap him up
Take him out
Put him in a leather box
Cubes, mother, see, how
Everything suggests another
Chinese boy
Be my guest
Be my baby
Be my onion
She's not hungry
She's not giving
He's not interested 'cause he's dead
Chinese boys again
Oh, look out

Every time I get back
I fall over 'cause I'm clumsy
Born on cancer, won't get nowhere
Solid heart but feeble pincers
Chinese boys all called Leo
Cleo
Feel themselves the way they
Feel each other wrapped in leather
Stick together in good weather
I'm not hungry
But that's hardly surprising 'cause I've eaten
I'm gonna stop
One, two, three, stop
All right