They may walk hand in hand

Like lovers through the market square

Selecting leather goods,

Pretending that they just don't care

They say all the boys are monsters

All the girls are whores

So when you lose the one you love

There's always plenty more

They may be in a club

All dressed up waiting to meet you

Or in some garret bleak

Despairing over what to do

All the girls are monsters

All the boys are whores

So when you lose the one you love

There's always plenty more.