She swings
Like the wind blows,

When she walks
You cannot even
Hear her steps

Is she real?
Can I touch?

There's some kind of golden,
Yellow coming out her chest

We are flowers,
We make the world better
We turn men lovers...

She swings
Like the wind blows,

When she walks
You cannot even
Hear her steps

Is she real?
Can I touch?

There's some kind of golden,
Yellow coming out her chest

We are flowers,
We make the world better
We turn men lovers
We are flowers,
We make the world better