He's moving into an art deco pad To swell the ranks of the clinically sad Shaking off the past with a change of address But keeps his telephone number and hopes for the best He makes a list of all his favourite friends Then leaves his footprints on the steps that shine With tears that he has wept again... and again... He bought his clothes from a skateboard boutizue Hung around in places where nobody speaks Got on line to an internet club Played trivial pursuit with the goddess of love And counted his imaginary friends, got up to ten, Lost count and then went out to walk the streets 'Til god knows when He met a girls who liked a bit of a laugh He gained the youth that he'd forgotten to have So now they mess about with things that are highly illegal Often get mistaken for interesting people And no-one ever seems to ring their bell But do they care, well do they hell They're gonna kiss and never tell again... and again...
writers: IAN ZACHARY BROUDIE, TERRY HALL
copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
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