Oh Roxy, don´t you love me?
Is it because I´m American?
Maybe it´s because I don´t grope you and your friends
Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants

Somewhere near the border of Spain and France
A bottle of bad red wine in my head
Sixty francs to look like a fool and dance
Mechanics understand not what I said
Thinkin´ ´bout the time that I had, how sad
Her one-word shirt describes my plight in red
And her name is a reoccurring theme

Start a move that everyone knows, the awkward pose
And in the meantime, her eyes finding me
Reluctantly I start the approach, her eyes, they glow
But it´s not glee, it´s fear - that´s why she flees
Sing of girls I wish that I knew
Her eyes rung true, her one-word shirt now stabbing sparkling blue
And her name is a barely flickering flame

Oh Roxy, don´t you love me?
Is it because I´m American?
Maybe it´s because I don´t grope you and your friends
Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants

Roxy´s spinnin´ around, or is it me that´s down?
How many fingers do I see? Is it three by now?
Stands on top of the stairs and screams for who? Who cares?
All that matters now is my eyes like Apollo´s, become clear.

Somewhere near the border of pain and romance,
Her name is undetermined as of yet
Potential for a Roxy again has always been
The hardest part to get out of my head
Comes full circle all in the end, I hope
Could one-word shirts in songs be just a joke?
And her name is a never-ever-ending game

Oh Roxy, don´t you love me?
Why do I gotta be American?
Maybe it´s because I don´t grope you and your friends
Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants