Talking Wag Club Blues

Well, the sun goes down on London town

But it never sets on Oxford Street

Those well spoken young men

And their bouncers are trying to create a well dressed elite

And all on private medicine, tut tut

Once inside join the rising tide

Of people who are so proud to get in

Who think their face is their fortune

But under their skin their ugly as sin

Didn't I meet you down at the clinic?

And lots of boys with lots of poison

There right down to their hips

There're lots of pretty girls with suntans

And cold sores on their lips

Is he your boyfriend

Or is he just here to hold your coat?

Or take it off, take it off, take it off

And let's find out

Half passed tries with half cast eyes

Are sucking in their cheeks until it hurts

Lots of twats in funny hats

With Karl Marx printed on their shirts

Will tell you

Revolution is just a state of mind

Oh this is Saturday night

In the west end, alright

And these people are not my kind

You can cut the rug with this weeks drug

Make 'em all queue up to lick your arse

Wear a T-Shirt that says

Young, free and single

Or a big badge that says

I'm here, punk working class

The place is full of ear holes

Who hang on every word

That they speak

Who believe what they write

About themselves

Week after week after week after week

I don't know how they get away with it

They should be ashamed

While if it's all so bloody beautiful

Well take it home and have it framed