I have news, good news from Notting Hill. The consignment of white gold has arrived for Mr. Anderson. . In the rain, in the fall. In the mud, in the hall.
'Cause I've been sitting back, no chance of falling, hoping that nothing ever blows (no, no). Boy, did you ever think that loving would be nothing more than walking me home? (no, no).
I've got to heat it up. Doctor, got to heat it up. I've got till 3 o'clock. I've got to rock until you drop. . Till you drop, something, ahh. . Something kinda, ooooh.
I've got to heat it up. Doctor, got to heat it up. I've got till 3 o'clock. I've got to rock until you drop. . Till you drop, something, ahh. . Something kinda, ooooh.