nash.

I fancy the hip rock 'roll scene-ster.

I wanna be fucked and then rolled over: 'cos I'm an independent woman of the 21st century.

No time for nits, I want sex and abortuary.

I read Glamour and the Guardian.

I like flowers AND I'm hard-ian.

I take cocaine.

I don't give a fuck about her, I want your name.

I can get fucked like the best of men, like the best of men, like the worst of pain, inflicted on another young girl again.

Impressed by another guitar hero; he's top score and you're a zero - you're outta your league.

There aint no rubber on the tracks, it's gravel.

You fall hard, cut quick, and it's an STD, a cut knee.

You're a side of stage grasp, a laugh, an after-show party in a bath. 

Fucked and expected to be fucked, a gasp from an uninformed intruder,

The crowd go wild as things get ruder, 

They're already out of hand and there's no-on here to take your hand...

It's a cold shower and a scramble for a dirty pair of knickers, don't get yours mixed up with hers.

Now get out of bed.

Get up.

Get dressed.

Get out of bed.

Get up.

Get down,

And get undressed: cos that's what you do best.

Strip, strip, strip and shag. Fuck and get fucked and drag and be impressed by the better sex.

Take a piece of raw vegetable, and hold it to your breast and say that you stood for nothing.

You were just a hole that lacked passion.

Another undignified product of society.

(That girl should have been a mansion.)

(Do not read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.)