Frenchy, I'm Faking

Frenchy, I'm faking, been longing to stir you up
Changing looks slightly like back in the Ninties
Far and away whistle delayed delights
The prospect of lightning was ever so frightnening

I said your kisses are nice, but I'm looking for hills to roll
Down with abandon and no understanding
I borrowed your suitcase and filled it with pearls and gold
You let me down lightly, I killed you politely