| She stands there on the corner, got raspberry jeans
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| Waiting and watching, oh god, here he comes
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| He pulls up beside her in his sporty machine
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| Rolls down the window and hands her a bag of plums
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| Plums? |
| Eat them he tells her
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| They’ll make ya feel great
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| She hops in the car and he steps on the gas
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| She says can’t you drive faster
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| It’s getting late
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| Just a wee bit faster
|
| You’re not going too fast
|
| Oh
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| Freeway, riding down the freeway
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| Cruisin', now she’s really cruisin'
|
| When the plums take affect
|
| Yes, the plums suddenly juice her mind (mind)
|
| She is no longer a nervous wreck
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| Now her nerves are blind; |
| she feels fine (fine)
|
| Oh, I feel great, she says
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| But he already knows it
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| Cause she’s fingering his hair
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| And biting his toes
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| She’s really plumbed out
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| And in her eyes she shows it
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| She says, Hey, what’s the hurry?
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| Let’s drive more slow
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| Moisture drips from her edible lips
|
| And as he looks into her eyes
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| He is quick to realize
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| That he’d better pull over
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| Before he gets to Dover
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| Cause if he really wants her
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| Now the time is wise
|
| Freeway, riding down the freeway
|
| Cruisin', now you’re really cruisin'
|
| When the plums take affect
|
| Yes, the plums suddenly juice her mind (mind)
|
| She is no longer a nervous wreck
|
| Now her nerves are blind; |
| she looks fine (fine)
|
| She’s plum dumb
|
| Plum dumb
|
| Plum it (x6)
|
| Yeah |