Tekster: Whitlams. No Aphrodisiac.

A letter to you on a cassette
'Cause we don't write anymore
Gotta make it up quickly
There's people asleep on the second floor

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth, beauty and a picture of you

You'll be walking your dog in a few hours
I'll be asleep in my brother's house
You're a thousand miles away
With food between your teeth

Come up for summer I've got a place near the beach
There's room for your dog

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth, beauty and a picture of you

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth, beauty and a picture of you

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Youth, truth, beauty, fame, boredom and a bottle of pills

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
You shouldn't leave me alone

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Bare feet like a tom-boy and a crooked smile

Truth, youth, beauty, fame, boredom
Red hair, no hair, innocence
Saturday and a picture of you
A letter to you on a cassette
You shouldn't leave me alone

Forty shaved sexy wants to do it all day
With a gun-totin' trigger-happy tranny named Kinky Renee
Tired teacher twenty-eight seeks regular meetings
For masculine muscular nappy-clad brutal breeding
While his wife rough-wrestles with a puppy all aquiver
On a wine-soaked strobe-lit Asiatic hall of mirrors
And a dash of loneliness

There's no aphrodisiac quite like it
Truth, youth, beauty, fame, boredom
Red hair, no hair, innocence, impunity and a picture of you

I got a video set-up me, love you short time
She pay me suck his finger with some fine wine
And a dash of loneliness

Truth, youth, beauty, fame, boredom
Red hair, no hair, innocence, awkwardness
Impunity, and a picture of you