Molina:
She wears satin
Spanish lace
She feels wild chinchilla
Brush across her face
She's lucky, she's a woman...
She wears diamonds
Bright as stars
She has lovers open doors
To fancy cars
She's lucky, so lucky, she's a woman...
A perfume by Lanvin
To dab across her wrist
A secret, ribboned diary
Of all the men she's kissed
Lilac waters bathe her skin
At the opera, ushers gasp
When she sweeps in
Gifts of chocolate, roses too
Hand delivered notes
Confessing "I LOVE YOU!"
Milky lotions, scented creams
She's the climax
Of your Technicolor dreams
How lucky can you be?
So lucky, you'll agree
And I wish that she were me
That woman...