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 they're ugly as sin
(Didn't I meet you down at the clinic ?)
Lots of boys with lots of poise
And hair right down to their hips
Lots of pretty girls with sun tans
And cold sores on their lips
Is he your boyfriend ?
Or is he just here to hold your coat ?
Take it off
Take it off
Take it off and let's find out
Eh ?
Half-a***d tries with half caste eyes
Are sucking in their cheeks until it hurts
Lots of t***s with funny hats
With Karl Marx printed on their shirts
Who'll 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 week's drug
Make 'em all queue up to lick your a***
Wear a T-shirt that says 'Young, Free & Single'
Or a big badge that says 'I'm hip & working class'
The place is full of ear'oles
That 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)
Well if it's all so b***** beautiful
Take it home and have it framed
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 they're ugly as sin
(Didn't I meet you down at the clinic ?)
Lots of boys with lots of poise
And hair right down to their hips
Lots of pretty girls with sun tans
And cold sores on their lips
Is he your boyfriend ?
Or is he just here to hold your coat ?
Take it off
Take it off
Take it off and let's find out
Eh ?
Half-a***d tries with half caste eyes
Are sucking in their cheeks until it hurts
Lots of t***s with funny hats
With Karl Marx printed on their shirts
Who'll 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 week's drug
Make 'em all queue up to lick your a***
Wear a T-shirt that says 'Young, Free & Single'
Or a big badge that says 'I'm hip & working class'
The place is full of ear'oles
That 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)
Well if it's all so b***** beautiful
Take it home and have it framed