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