Running off over next doors garden Before the hour is done It's more a question of feeling Than it is a question of fun The confidence is the balaclava I'm sure you'll baffle 'em good With the ending wreak of salty cheeks And runny makeup alone Oh, will blood run down the face Of a boy bewildered and scorned And you'll find yourself in a skirmish Where you wish you'd never been born You tie yourself to the tracks And there isn't no going back And it's wrong, wrong, wrong But we'll do it anyway 'cause we love a bit of trouble Are you pulling her from a burning building Or throwing her to the sharks? Can only hope that the ending is a pleasurable as the start The confidence is the balaclava I'm sure you baffle 'em straight And it's wrong, wrong, wrong She can hardly wait That's right, he won't let her out his sight Now the shaggers perform And the daggers are drawn Who's the crooks in this crime? That's right, he won't let her out his sight How the shaggers perform And the daggers are drawn Who's the crooks is this... Crime! That's right, he won't let her out his sight That's right, he won't let her out his sight That's right, he won't let her out his sight You'll be able to post any day of the most For the sights of all time You knew that he'd be trouble right before the very first kiss Quiet and unassuming, but you heard that they were the naughtiest She pleaded with you to take it off But you resisted and fought Sorry sweetheart Abba Drava Keep on the balaclava