Are you off to buy a drink? I'll gi' ye a spare cider. A breast I wondered which one of us was strange
Rows of fucking machines crammed down needle only on alleys High-tech biometric devices for eyes identify the foot from the flair I wonder how different it is looking out? Shop floor windows read no photos. Pimps look on American tourist holds camera overhead "Hey look there's a little redhead" People pissing down pavement drains to come to their senses "How much for a shag for the four of us?" The glass door closes, the curtains come down, the iron lady does her work
Beads of sweat and alcohol coalesce A fat red face lurches forward "Everything has a price!"
Go to peep-show and think about candy Man masturbates in the opposite booth Licorice girls with false eye flaunts to each passer-by One more bite of the cherry
Pass unnoticed past crooked buildings the street gets tighter Waves of smoke-filled air entice seduce nostrils And light up the universe Dance giddily in the midnight moonlight Climax in spiritual awakening It passes like a gust of wind Wake up on hotel bed fully clothed Sense a shag, mind molested Try to piece together the night forever
Are you off to buy a drink? I'll gi' ye a spare cider. A breast? No I wondered which one of us was strange, probably me "Ecstasy, cocaine." the street whispers Rows of fucking machines crammed down needle-hole neon alleys High-tech biometric devices for eyes identify the foot from the flair I wonder how different it is looking out? Shop floor windows read no photos. Pimps look on American tourist holds camera overhead "Hey look there's a little redhead." People pissing down pavement drains to come to their senses "How much for a shag for the four of us?" As the glass door closes, the curtains come down, the iron lady does her work Beads of sweat and alcohol coalesce A fat red face lurches forward "Everything has a price!" he laughs
[Semi-coherent chanting including the phrases: You know the desert's coming No-one's going to profit]
Side turns around the corner I heard the speakers in the park And all the personal sin non qua Ah, they say they've lost their hearts And all the docile fight this war To the sound of Central Park Don't be a sap militant, son Even though we face a monster Connect desires and reality Now there's a radical philosophy
And all the personal sin non qua Ah, they say they've lost their hearts And all the docile fight this war To the sound of Central Park