Well, she’s first at the bar Giro day
First out the cab when its time to pay
Woah, she’s got a bum knee, Name like a deity
Oh, she’s got red card, From half the spots on the high street
Talks like she’s fresh out the merchant Navy
Smells o’ Deep Heat and Amber Leaf, That girl’s a heresy
She’s a big happy sun on a black Rothko canvas
Slashed that Picasso with a Stanley from her handbag
Fine with Roko’s Basilisk
Splashed lime green paint on Adele Bloch-Bauer’s face
Reformed recidivist, missed a kiss from a prince
Now’s she’s set adrift in the midst of this
This blue sky thinking pissing contest
Plastic mac like a binbag flailing
Vaulting the tops of the wrought iron railings
Like some half-cut demi-god
This wing-clipped arista, running
Rough shod
Tough sod
Feeling the rain in her bones, on the social
Dunlops on cobblestones, tone of the motion
No-goes and ginnels
Shining spikes in the wanest remains of the moonlight
Let’s sing a song for the flailing failures
Those lacking egos are always gracious
I’m one to talk...I’m a hamfisted carving of a selfish God
I’ll serenade you on the bus apron
I’ll help shoplift that Danish bacon
I’m entranced by your fat Hippocampus
Crystal decanters, stashed in your handbag
Pilfered glassware not withstanding
You’re as classy as that lass off “Knott’s Landing”
My understanding is yer outstanding
That handsy barman, caught a backhanding
Clambered atop with no-one to stop yers
You copped the lot from the duffed up shopkeep
Ten bags of cashews arms full of optics
We gathered up the plunder, and we ‘opped it
Plastic mac like a binbag flailing
Vaulting the tops of the wrought iron railings
Like some half-cut demi-god
This wing-clipped arista, running
Rough shod
Tough sod
Feeling the rain in her bones, on the social
Dunlops on cobblestones, tone of the motion
No-goes and ginnels
Shining spikes in the wanest remains of the moonlight
He imbibed more than was wise for his rages
Tracked by the serials stamped on his wages
Powder and cordite, linger for ages
Wrote a confession, she ripped out the pages
She was a diva, she flattened his fear
Lassoed the group with a hoop from her ear
Never embarrassed and never a bore
This was the home he was seeking before
Well, she’s first at the bar Giro day
First out the cab when its time to pay
Woah, she’s got a bum knee, Name like a deity
Oh, she’s got red card, From half the spots on the high street
Talks like she’s fresh out the merchant Navy
Smells o’ Deep Heat and Amber Leaf
That girl’s a heresy
She’s a big happy sun on a black Rothko canvas
Slashed that Picasso with a Stanley from her handbag
Fine with Roko’s Basilisk
Splashed lime green paint on Adele Bloch-Bauer’s face
Reformed recidivist, missed a kiss from a prince
Now’s she’s set adrift in the midst of this
This blue sky thinking pissing contest
Plastic mac like a binbag flailing
Vaulting the tops of the wrought iron railings
Like some half-cut demi-god
This wing-clipped arista, running
Rough shod
Tough sod
Feeling the rain in her bones, on the social
Dunlops on cobblestones, tone of the motion
No-goes and ginnels
Shining spikes in the wanest remains of the moonlight
He imbibed more than was wise for his rages
Tracked by the serials stamped on his wages
Powder and cordite, linger for ages
Wrote a confession, she ripped out the pages,
She was a diva, she flattened his fear
Lassoed the group with a hoop from her ear
Never embarrassed and never a bore
This was the home he was seeking before