Standing in the bog of a west end bar Guy on the right leaning over too far Money in my pocket gonna put it in the slot Open up the pack see what type I got
I didn't want to hold you
It's a fab protective for that type of a girl But everybody knows that she uses it well It's the therapeutic structure I can use at will But I don't think it fits my b.d. drill
Sitting in a carriage of a bakerloo Erotica my pocket got a packet for you Advert on the escalator on my way home I don't need no skin flicks, I want to be alone
I didn't want to hold you