Tekster:
Coxon Graham Happines In Magazines

dress that shows your knees Have you painted up your lips Are you getting what you need Are you happy on your own Are you really happy in his shaky arms Happiness

Now the end is in sight, I'm just tired Lying awake at night so wired And fired up with biological urge in my belly And I hunt for the words on my telecaster

Nothing to see nothing to hear Nothing to be nothing to fear Nothing to prove nothing to say Nothing to loose nothing to gain Nothing to feel nothing

Listen my hopeless friend Listen my hopeless friend Come inside and drop your coat Wash your hair you smell like a goat Listen my hopeless friend Listen

Kick ass little girl going to a party Eating blue Smarties cos she's rock'n'roll Gonna do some coke and maybe do some poking Gonna spin some records

In an old house in an old street You found me and a tv There was no bed, there were no chairs There was no roof, there were no stairs Ribbons and leaves