Banana Sandwiches, more than just a metaphor

With apologies to Elvis Presley...and because "In the Ghetto" didn't quite work -- to "Burning Love (Hunk of)".


(Mike Theiler/Reuters)
Lord almighty,
I feel my temperature rising

(AFP/Jim Watson)
Higher higher
It’s burning through to my soul


(AFP/Nicholas Kamm)
Girl, girl, girl
You gonna set me on fire
My brain is flaming
I don’t know which way to go


(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)
Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love

Ooh, ooh, ooh,
I feel my temperature rising

(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)
Help me, I’m flaming
I must be a hundred and nine
Burning, burning, burning
And nothing can cool me
I just might turn into smoke
But I feel fine


REUTERS/Mike Theiler
Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like a sweet song of a choir
And you light my morning sky
With burning love


(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)
It’s coming closer
The flames are reaching my body
Please won’t you help me

(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)
I feel like I’m slipping away

(AP Photo/Charles Dharapak)
It’s hard to breath
And my chest is a-heaving

Lord almighty,
I’m burning a hole where I lay
Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir

(AFP/Jim Watson)
You light my morning sky
With burning love
With burning love
Ah, ah, burning love

REUTERS/Gary Cameron
I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love