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