I'll make you a deal, like any other candidate We'll pretend we're walking home for your future's at stake My set is amazing, it even smells like a street There's a bar at the end where I can meet you and your friend Someone scrawled on the walls "I smell the blood of Les Tricoteuses" Who wrote up scandals in other bars I'm having so much fun with the poisonous people Spreading rumours and lies and stories they made up Some make you sing and some make you scream One makes you wish that you'd never been seen But there's a shop on the corner that's selling papier-mâché Making bullet-proof faces; Charlie Manson, Ca**ius Clay If you want it, boys, get it here, then So you scream out of line: "I want you! I need you! Anyone out there? Any time?" Tres butch little number whines "Hey dirty, I want you When it's good, it's really good, and when it's bad I go to pieces" If you want it, boys, get it here, then Well, on the street where you live I could not hold up my head For I gave all I have in another bed On another floor, in the back of a car In the cellar of a church with the door ajar Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kind But we can't stop trying 'til we break up our minds 'Til the sun drips blood on the seedy young knights Who press you on the ground while shaking in fright I guess we could cruise down one more time With you by my side, it should be fine We'll buy some d** and watch a band Then jump in the river holding hands