Wire - Bad Worn Thing lyrics

Jam sandwich filled with Uzied peelers Frisking pimps and dawn car dealers The Fat Controller's transport inches When stealing lives, he never flinches Observe the poker party aces In champagne bars, unlikely spaces Unnerving, swerving shifty places Where little works or convinces Follow me! No explanation The future sold, the Chancellor paces The growing pains, a**ociated With a past which no-one faces They clip their speech They clip your wings The absent tribe Of missing links The absolute Of vodka kings The over crowded Nature of things It's a bad worn thing!