He's moving into an art deco pad

To swell the ranks of the clinically sad

Shaking off the past with a change of address

But keeps his telephone number and hopes for the best



He makes a list of all his favourite friends

Then leaves his footprints on the steps

That shine with tears that he has wept

again... and again...and again... and again...



He bought his clothes from a skateboard boutique

Hung around in places where nobody speaks

Got on line to an internet club

Played trivial persuit with the godess of love



And counted his imaginary friends,

Got up to ten, lost count and then

Went out to walk the streets

'Til god knows when



He met a girl who liked a bit of a laugh

He gained the youth that he'd forgotten to have

So now they mess about with things that are highly illegal

Often get mistaken for interesting people



And no-one ever seems to ring their bell

But do they care, well do they hell

They're gonna kiss and never tell

again... and again... and again... and again