It’s six o’clock and the golden hands in her wrist
Have fade the night away

One more drop of sucsess into the vein
Or five, as Marilyn did

Guess how many Mary Quant she would waste
To make you take her home

I’m sure that she couldn’t be the best sex
That you ever, ever had

But she looks like, she looks good!

When the fashion fades you are kicked to space
When the fashion ends...
When the fifteen minutes pass you are shot to space

And they won’t give you time to comb your hair
So don’t forget to combine your purse
I’ve read about it, the space is blue

There are two tar tear drops falling down from
Her anorexic face

But while she falls asleep she prays: “Lord Wharol,
Hallowed by your name”

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE, boy, but she prefers
SIMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

The copy number sixty six from a Twiggy line
Do you wanna be like her?

She`s a blur! She's a lie!