Bechamel

I was in my shoes; I was in my coat
Her apéritif smacked down my throat
And a rack of lamb with a coq au vin
Picking pot de crème off of jealous lips
Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal
I want her bones, and I want her flesh
And that's all she'll give me; I want the rest
So we drink too much, and we drink some more
With the DNA soaked into the floor
Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal
Pack him off in ice
Wrap me up in cellophane
The aftertaste like aspartame
It's candy and it won't be tamed
This love, this love
Dinner bell, my bitter little béchamel
It's spoiled rotten, I can tell
His love, his love, his love
[Guitar Break]
Ignore the warning voice of my last appeal
Pack him off in ice
Wrap me up in cellophane
The aftertaste like aspartame
It's candy, and it won't be tamed
This love, this love
Dinner bell, my bitter little béchamel
It's spoiled rotten, I can tell
His love, his love, his love
His love, his love, his love
[Best attempt, probably not perfect.]