I' have always been convinced, pretzels are baked in bed
You don't say, I hear them squeal and kneel as they listen to my claim
Body parts weaving through loops forming the well-known shape
Sweet and salty
Sweet and salty
Pretzel me some and all the way
As if there is an escape
Push and pull and you’ll
Feel fire within, in a flash, in a nick of time
Sparks rush through the veil between us
Sparks rush through the veil between us
Clasping both hands harder, tigher
Just then, a second prior our fingers are searching for a breather,
A millimeter of space
Whilst the lips aren’t seeking, their space
It has been prepped, predetermined, locked in
As a diamond bank in London chooses to be, must be, requires to be
Hips intertwined in the middle, through the side, lie and lay into these
A pure novelty I must admit
One leg grabs the other
Clinching to each other, last day on earth
Notions of life fully lived
Electric current pulsating practically killing all
Electric current pulsating practically killing all
From bottom to top, bottom to heaven’s ways
Pretzel has been weaved in not so many days
Take away, stay or disappear
Pretzel has been made and there is no escaping.
Pretzel has been made and there is no escaping.
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