Helen Forrest - Bill текст песни

Текст песни Bill - Helen Forrest




He's just, my Bill, he's not the type at all
You'd meet him on the street and never notice him
His form and face, his manly grace
Is not the kind that you would find in a statue
And I can't explain, it's surely not his brain
That makes me thrill
I love him, because, he's wonderful
Because he's just, my Bill




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