Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Hwyl.
Ciff mwy o Windows.
Ciff mae'n fwy mewn shout skinny o complaint.
Hei,
hei,
self-awaze yourself, get out of your way, out of your way.
You turn love from hell to trial, an amazing escape, sit down and wait.
Watch your back for born in an agony style.
Run, run, run, run to the disco, to the disco, to the disco.
Go, you need a man who's always haunting your soul, filling your hole.
Not to the men I know, unless he's *** around, sharing a crown.
Soon people are pelted with stones, America's wave, turn on the flames.
Get your coke out of your defeat and go home.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Rola."
Ro, to the disco
Ro, to the disco
Ro, to the disco
Ola wala wala wala
Ro, to the disco
Ro, to the disco
Ro, to the disco