| You stood roadside
|
| Long legs heels far too high
|
| Looking like some perfect star
|
| Who’s the one this act is for?
|
| You might scare young boys to death
|
| With your backstreet cabaret
|
| But I read you so long ago
|
| The book’s been out to play
|
| 'Cos you got no imagination
|
| Though you look like a real fine breaker
|
| No imagination
|
| A straight ride no Kama Sutra
|
| No bills name cards
|
| Fast love soft touch got it fast
|
| 'Cos you think you’ve hit a hardline hook
|
| You don’t get no second looks
|
| When you think you’re boxin' clever
|
| You don’t never knock 'em out
|
| I see you no more no
|
| What you’re tryin' 'em out
|
| 'Cos you got no imagination
|
| Though you look like a real fine breaker
|
| No imagination
|
| A straight ride on Kama Sutra
|
| No imagination
|
| Sterilized and medicated
|
| No imagination
|
| You stood roadside
|
| Long legs and those heels
|
| They scare young boys to death
|
| With your backstreet cabaret
|
| But I read you so long ago
|
| The book’s been out to play
|
| You got no imagination
|
| Sterilized and medicated
|
| No imagination
|
| Open wide and get it finished
|
| No imagination
|
| Though you look like a real fine breaker
|
| No imagination
|
| Straight ride no Kama Sutra
|
| No imagination
|
| Sterilized and medicated
|
| No imagination |