Bechamel

I was in my shoes; I was in my coat Her apéritif smacked down my throat And a rack of lamb with a coq au vin Picking pot de crème off of jealous lips Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal I want her bones, and I want her flesh And that's all she'll give me; I want the rest So we drink too much, and we drink some more With the DNA soaked into the floor Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal Pack him off in ice Wrap me up in cellophane The aftertaste like aspartame It's candy and it won't be tamed This love, this love Dinner bell, my bitter little béchamel It's spoiled rotten, I can tell His love, his love, his love [Guitar Break] Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal Pack him off in ice Wrap me up in cellophane The aftertaste like aspartame It's candy, and it won't be tamed This love, this love Dinner bell, my bitter little béchamel It's spoiled rotten, I can tell His love, his love, his love His love, his love, his love [Best attempt, probably not perfect.]