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.]