Maladjusted

On this glorious occasion... Of the splendid defeat I wanna start from before the beginning Loot wine, be mine, and Then let's stay out for the night Ride via Parkside, semi-perilous lives Jeer the lights in the windows Of all safe and stable homes But wondering then Well what could peace of mind be like? Anyway do you want to hear Our story, or not? As the Fulham Road lights Stretch and invite into the night From a Stevenage overspill We'd kill to live around SW6 - with someone like you Keep thieves' hours With someone like you As long as it slides You stalk the house In a low-cut blouse: "Oh Christ, another stifled Friday night!" And the Fulham Road lights Stretch and invite into the night Well, I was fifteen What could I know? When the gulf between All the things I need And the things I receive Is an ancient ocean wide, wild, lost, uncrossed Still I maintain there's nothing wrong with you You do all that you do Because it's all you can do Well, I was fifteen Where could I go? With a soul full of loathing For stinging bureaucracy Making it anything Other than easy For working girls like me With my hands on my head I flop on your bed With a head full of dread For all I've ever said Maladjusted, maladjusted Maladjusted, maladjusted Never to be trusted Oh, never to be trusted There's nothing wrong with you, oh There's nothing wrong with you, oh There's nothing wrong with you, oh There's nothing wrong with you There's nothing wrong with you