Text: Crowded House. Woodface. Italian Plastic.

I bring you plates from Rome
You say "They look fantastic"
I say "We're having fun"
Nothing like that Italian plastic

I bring you rocks and flowers
You say "They look pathetic"
You pick me up at night
I don't feel pathetic

When you wake up with me
I'll be your glass of water
When you stick up for me
Then you're my Bella Bambina

I say "We're on a trip"
Look's like we're on vacation
I say "We're having fun"
In our little constellation

When you wake up with me
I'll be your glass of water
When you stick up for me

Then I'll be your Bella Bambina, your man from the moon
I'll be your little boy running with that egg on his spoon
I'll be your soul surviver, your worst wicked friend
I'll be your piggy in the middle, stick with you till the end

When you wake up with me
I'll be your glass of water
When you stick up for me
The you're my Bella Bambina

Who you gonna take to the ball tonight?
Who you gonna take to the dance tonight?
Who you gonna take to the dance tonight?
Who you gonna take to the dance tonight, tonight, tonight?

Who you gonna take to the ball tonight?
Who you gonna take to the dance tonight?