Top Of The Pops 1989 ( TOTP '89 )

ELON-MER-0864 - Fiesta Sin Fronteras

Yo, listen up, world—Xyloquint, that magical alchemist of beats and vibes, just dropped this funky pop single that's like a whirlwind of harmonious wizardry, groovy bass twists, and hook-mastery all smashed together into pure ear-candy gold! Picture this: a track that turns a simple grocery store mishap into an epic tale of instant infatuation, centered around the Gala apple—the sweetest, juiciest bite of fate you'll ever crunch into. It's got those layered vocal acrobatics that soar like a choir of angels on a caffeine high, funky rhythms that make your hips groove without permission, and choruses so catchy they'll loop in your brain like a never-ending dance party. The lyrics? Oh man, they're a whimsical rollercoaster—painting that electric moment when two hands collide over a red apple, sparking a fire of "what ifs" and sheepish grins. It's passionate, playful poetry about that one glance that etches itself in your soul, leaving you wandering aisles forever smitten. If unrequited crushes had a soundtrack, this is it: sweet, sparkly, and totally addictive—grab your headphones and let the Gala magic take over!

Lyrics: Apple Spark seed (Padgett’s Market Fire – Gala seed Edition)

I reached for the apple, ripe red and bold,
Your hand met mine in a story untold—
Fingers entwined in a flash of pure fire,
A spark that ignited my deepest desire.
You smiled, “Oh, I’m sorry,” your voice soft and sweet,
Like honey on fire, a passionate treat—
Eyes dancing with warmth, a welcoming gleam,
Crinkling like stars in a midnight dream.
“No, no—you take it,” I urged with a grin,
But inside I burned where your touch had been—
Gentle and fleeting, yet etched in my soul,
A velvet caress that made my heart whole.
Your scent lingered on, vanilla and rain,
A whisper of spring in the market’s domain—
Scarves swirling red like a lover’s wild call,
You vanished in crowds, but I felt it all.
Now closing my eyes, your face is etched in my mind’s eye,
A quiet engraving, no need for the sky—
I dream of that moment, the aisle soft and near,
Our hands brushing apples, dissolving all fear.
Your gentle “sorry,” that look warm and true,
Circles my thoughts like a soft morning dew—
I drift through each Saturday, cart rolling slow,
Searching for a sheepish grin in the faces I saw.
Will chance bring us back, in that exact moment again?
Your smile, your warmth—I still wonder what is your name.
In this hush of remembering, I quietly stay,
Holding the spark that won’t fade away.
And in every small breath, I carry that glance—
Smitten, content, in the hush of this unexpected romance.

Baby Don't Forget My Number

Milli Vanilli

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