| Awaken on the satin sheets
|
| Another velvet morning
|
| Gaze down at the stinking streets
|
| Black glass reflects a warning
|
| The losing team are in their place
|
| The fat of the land is your right
|
| You put it all into your face
|
| The only one in sight
|
| Your tongue moves like a shining sword
|
| In your suit of armour, powder blue
|
| You’re running with the wild ones
|
| And the boys always get up to no good
|
| It’s different when they’re not around
|
| Long lunches go down slowly
|
| With no one to massage your neck
|
| The black cloud descends
|
| You watch yourself on the news, don’t let the feeling die
|
| You watch yourself on the news, phone rings
|
| Take the ticket
|
| Take the ticket
|
| Here’s to you, looking at you
|
| Looking at you, looking at you
|
| You watch yourself on the news, don’t let the feeling die
|
| You watch yourself on the news, phone rings
|
| Take the ticket
|
| Take the ticket
|
| Past the stone gate, corridor winds
|
| Velvet carpet draped under shining candlelight
|
| Oil portraits hang, enter the mahogany room
|
| Behind the black rope lies the golden box
|
| Now you’re going home, now you’re going home |