From bicycles to platform heels School uniform to flares A little silver make-up Black eyeliner in swathes We took the train to London On the Bed-Pan freedom line Going to a nightclub, oh, to a nightclub in Soho It's a scream, don't look down We can be those cosmonauts We can be space fantasy We're a scream, we don't look down We're soaking in the glamour From Japan to Jupiter Hanging out at Eric's In cobwebbed frilly sleeves Dressed roughly as Victorians Dressed drastically as Queens Paint a red disc on your forehead Some lightning 'cross your cheek Jonesy says it how it could be His sun machine, his starry man His Major Tom, his Berlin hands They're a scream, don't look down... Staring at the record sleeve For hour after hour I want to be an astronaut with glitter and space power I want to dye my hair red Hold a f*g just like a girl Freeze in thick wool overcoats In the shadow of the wall And the record goes around, around And the needle gathers dust They shout for me to turn it down If I don't get out of here I'll burst I want to scream, I want to fly far away Japan/Jupiter Full of cleverness and charm Goodbye then to platforms To the Rollers and white jeans The make-up has caked up And the fantasy's unreal Still I'm glad I took the London train On the Bed-Pan freedom line Went out to those dodgy clubs And changed back to my school uniform in the Gents on platform 9 We had a scream, we never looked back We were those cosmonauts lost in outer space A scream, don't look now With a head rush of glamour, we spun the world and all inside her around Spun the world and all inside her around