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?

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

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

Oh Roxy (Oh Roxy)

Oh Roxy (Roxy)

Love me like the guy who's down your pants