Walk Up

Walk up to failure Walk up to regret Walk up to a place you'll never forget Past the pregnant guard The red paradise of dreams and scars Leg scars, arm scars, stomach scars lead by far The mark of the old country's stars The old cliche exploitation blues The offers no young hungry things could refuse "Welcome to Hell" She may as well say As you walk up, walk up You walk up to love on your lunch break Walk up, walk up Walk up to see God, to see sweet Jane You still smell her snatch As you trawl the accounts Flip through the company books You can say you rode the coattails of blind chance I know you itch for romance Another lonely executive cunt The kind that only knows how to pay to touch In the boardroom Your fish fingers shake hands with the top flight men Check your balls for lumps once they've left What's that itch? Is that new? Is that working as it's supposed to? Am I alive? Is she sleeping with her eyes open? There's a place for your briefcase But watch out for the wandering hands Walk up To see God, to see sweet Jane To pay for a new name For love on your lunch break "Do you think on how these pretty young Things just get by on the brink?" You are asked, as you both walk past You feign indifference, you say, "I've got no idea" "Enough to live, I suppose" And your favourite catches your eye But she stays quiet, you exhale in relief Humiliation is almost complete Chalk it up to blind fate Tomorrow you're back for love on your lunch break Walk up Walk up Walk up (crowd complaining) Hey turn that shit down motherfucker! [?] listen to my music whenever the fuck I want! Boring! Go home man! What are ya talkin' bout home? I ain't got no home I ain't got no home, I ain't got no town I ain't got no friends, I ain't got a frown I am unhappy, and that's the truth I got two words, fuck you! (crowd wooing) Hey, keep that going on now boy! Once he starts playin' he never stops, that damn boy