I don't know why, girl    You keep coming around    I don't know when    And I don't know how    But a gust of wind coming    It come knocking on my door    Just to make me feel special    Feel . . . like a whore       Summertime came and    Heated you up    Drinking your honey    From an old paper cup    Dress for your Sundays    And a dog for your fix    My tongue on your teeth but    Your mouth can't fix       Just a gust of wind coming    Come knocking on my door    Just to make me feel special    Feel . . .    Feel . . .    To feel . . . oh . . .    To feel . . . like a whore