“Further Complications."

In the geginning there was nothing &, To be honest, that suited me just fine. I was three weeks late coming out of the womb In no great rush to join the rest of mankind Where there were: Further complications - Further complications in store. I was not born in war-time & I was not born in pain or poverty. I need an addiction, I need an affliction; To cultivate a personality. I need some: Further complications. Further complications in store. Your life is just a carrier-bag. The enemy without has now moved in somewhere else. If your parents didn't screw you up, why not do it yourself? Go fight your battles - go to a disco. You want to suffer? Go to a Rock Show. Do you follow me? Then follow me to: Further complications - Further complications in store. Your life is just a carrier-bag. Over-fill it and the straps will snap. & I used to think that people all chose lives they led But there's so many other choices That you've got to make instead. Don't write a novel; a shopping-list is better. It's a complicated Boogie & I don't know any better, baby. Further complications - Further complications in store. Your life is just a carrier bag. Over-fill it and the straps will snap. Further complications - Further complications Do you follow me?