It can't be natural, it can't be sane,
The places my mind goes when you show up at work Monday.
I try to be a good girl, push the pictures aside,
Of you and me and one cubicle...
Your lips, your eyes, your thighs,
My my my.
You look so good, it hurts.
I gently punch in the numbers; your body's the keys.
By mid morning break time, your the biscuit, and I am the tea.
I try to be such a good girl - my lipstick all on straight.
You and me in one cubicle;
It's more than a woman like me can take.
Hey hey.
You look so good, it hurts, and I wanna touch it.
What an apparition. Trick now or true?
Did I hear correctly sir?
Were you asking me to sit on you?