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... He bought his clothes from a skateboard boutique Hung around in places where nobody speaks Got on line to an internet club Played Trivial Pursuits with the Goddess of Love And counted his imaginary friends, got up to ten, Lost count and then went out to walk the streets 'Til God know when. He met a girl who liked a bit of a laugh, He gained the youth 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...