|
History repeats the old conceits |
|
The glib replies the same defeats |
|
Keep your finger on important issues |
|
With crocodile tears and a pocketful of tissues |
|
I'm just the oily slick |
|
On the windup world of the nervous tick |
|
In a very fashionable hovel |
|
|
|
I hang around dying to be tortured |
|
You'll never be alone in the bone orchard |
|
This battle with the bottle is nothing so novel |
|
|
|
So in this almost empty gin palace |
|
Through a two-way looking glass |
|
You see your Alice |
|
|
|
You know she has no sense |
|
For all your jealousy |
|
In a sense she still smiles very sweetly |
|
|
|
Charged with insults and flattery |
|
Her body moves with malice |
|
Do you have to be so cruel to be callous |
|
|
|
And now you find you fit this identikit completely |
|
You say you have no secrets |
|
And then leave discreetly |
|
|
|
[Chorus:] |
|
I might make it California's fault |
|
Be locked in Geneva's deepest vault |
|
Just like the canals of Mars and the great barrier reef |
|
I come to you beyond belief |
|
|
|
My hands were clammy and cunning |
|
She's been suitably stunning |
|
But I know there's not a hope in Hades |
|
All the laddies cat call and wolf whistle |
|
So-called gentlemen and ladies |
|
Dog fight like rose and thistle |
|
|
|
I've got a feeling |
|
I'm going to get a lot of grief |
|
Once this seemed so appealing |
|
Now I am beyond belief |
|
|
|
[Chorus] |
