The ideal girl
In London from france
Came over and left me
She left me entranced
Now I have to get by
Once again on my own
Nothing but memories

See I remember your eyes
In their dark shade of brown
While these blue eyes of mine
They stay closed
I kissed you goodbye on the M-109
I choked as I watched the bus go, oh-oh

Choking and smoking to your angelic soul
Choking and smoking myself into a hole
Where the only way out is to sleep and to dream
And to cry out your na-a-ame