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Chicanes of City Lights

Walking down a Blade Runner scenario. The chicane of neon lights keep sliding through my reality. Neon billboards explode with sex. The sleaze, the glamour, the decadence, I'm part of it all, I made this town. Midnight Express from Osaka to Kyoto and not forgetting Tokyo. Telephone calls without the touch of a button. Today's science fiction is in today's world. No need for the future as we've got it right here. Technological pronouncements are a thing of the past. They are here right now

See these chicanes of city lights from an aeroplane. Like a garden maze I follow through. No real memories but the fractions of time kept in a bottled mind. Yours for an unnamed price. Bargain with me. Use me. We'll see what we can come to as arrangements mean everything. The future's here, folks, we just haven't had time to fully appreciate it. The pope has told you to look back but as citizens we must move forward. We are a schizophrenic society maligned by the forces above who use us as pawns on a chessboard.

Exploding sex in neon light. A cinema screen is used to project your fantasies. A human interface has lost its appeal years ago but people refuse to move on in the belief that they are rebelling from society when in truth they are just feeding it meaty morsels. The sanctity melts into a fusion of society, film, camera, city lights. The future's here and it's on your computer file. You're vulnerable now.

These chicanes of city lights. Drive your car to twist into the night. Blend in with the scenery. You are camouflage. What no one sees, no one knows. When no one knows, no one cares. Welcome to the future, guys, it's been here all along. You just haven't realized it yet. But you will eventually. Everyone's got to learn sometimes. So just drive your car to twist into the night. Stay awake as you're missing all the fun.

And It Works

We've got our uneducated correspondent making potshots at you. We got her good and got her raring to go. Taking potshots at you. Slur your name all over our magazine empire. Slur your name because she is for hire.

And it works, and it works, and it works, and it works, and it works.

Let's see the money, let's call you a gold digging whore, let's call him an asshole, let's call the whole thing off if we pay you too good. So take potshots at us. Take potshots at us. Our publicity machine is unstoppable. It's unbreakable. We sell better when you make potshots at us.

Because it works, and it works, and it works, and it works, and it works.

Only When I Fall ( To Attach Is To Attack )

It's only when I fall do I lose control. That there's nothing left. Smothered in this claustrophobic nightmare where you are supposed to be my friend but act as my enemy. You take pride in wounding others that you should love. I should have protective armour but I let my defences down. It's only when I fall do I lose any meaning.

It's only when I fall do I lose control. You can wrap around but you hardly make a sound. The things you said. The plans we set out. Turn your back since there's no dignity. Forget we even exist. Houdini, the scene played out like before except not as planned. Why give you anything when you don't give back? It's only when I fall do I lose any meaning?

Let's just carry on and pretend it never happened. It's easier that way. There's no damage and I can't see any carnage around me. Walking on broken glass but I can't see a thing. We seperately agreed not to mention it. Unless you decide to have a change of heart. Now that really would surprise me. Let's just carry on and pretend it never happened. I'd hate to fall again and get attached. To attach is to attack.

You Always Look Different

Everytime I see you, you always look different. The hair gets blonder changing your complexion each and every time. The only thing that gives you away is your white canvass shoes. Unspoilt by Converse. I should've known we'd make a great pair because we're such fascists when it comes to the art of fashion. However I feel I'm two years too old. You intimated as much in conversation.

But each time I see you, you always look different. You make the clothes rather than the clothes making you. Your appearance seems to radically alter without having to do so much. I guess that's what they call effortless appeal. A cool distance is all I'll ever have. We're two doctor's bill's. A broken back and bronchitis......we're €100 lighter but the thought of talk was good. However I don't want to go any further. A cool distance is all I'll ever have. It's all I ever want. I'm two years too old. When you've just done the exam, I'm four years ahead but going nowhere. It's a novelty being too old for someone or something, I'm used to being too young even when I'm not.

If I wanted to break down your defences which is something I'm not too keen on......I'd want to know more, I'd want to get inside your mind, your skin and your body. But you see, the very thought of that makes me sick. The idea of making a cheap prostitute out of every girl I see just doesn't appeal to me. I guess I want to preserve class rather than destroy it. Is it such an unnatural thing really? Why does every girl think that if I'm not inside the "mutually exclusive" club that I'm missing out? I'd like to keep the distance......it's my only way of showing respect.

I'd dress in the best, if only to impress you. I wouldn't ask for much but then everyone wants more.

Everytime I see you, you always look different. You must read all the secret tips and know how to exploit them. Manipulate them into your own figure. It's a craft that works well and believe me I've seen many of them fail. Even when you dress down, you dress up.

I'd dress in the best, if only to impress you. I wouldn't ask for much but then everyone wants more.

That's what capitalism does to love affairs.

Er?

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