Nostalgic Pushead

One, two, three, four

Five, six, seven, eight

I am the raping sunglass gaze

Of sweating man and escort agencies60's

Alienation the anthem of care

Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids

Slavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

GodThey dig the new scene and their parties

Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity

Vicarious thrills rerun their youth

We follow, we have no voice, the dead

Radio nostalgia is radio death

I wanna cover diamonds on my wife

Hard rock nostalgia the

Stones on

CDTranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzed

Slavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade

Thinks it's so fresh not a post

Elvis still

All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried

Rebellion, it always sells at a profit

I am a face of fashion in

Soho Square

My tie is

Paul Smith or

GaultierMy cheeks blood red as my favorite port

But, hey, ******* keeps cholesterol at bay

Slavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the

God, some

God