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 marks of the old country start 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 Walk up for 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 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 they like these pretty young things, or 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 well, I suppose" And your favourite catches your eye But she stays quiet, you exhale relief Humiliation was 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! Hey, I'm gonna listen to my music whenever the f*ck 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 Ain't got no friends, ain't got a frown I am unhappy, and that's the truth I got two words, f*ck you! (Crowd wooing) Hey, keep that going on now, boy! Once he starts playin', he never stops, that damn boy