Black stockings, spotted skirt
Engaging smile, pretty flirt, dealing dirt
Dollars or dope, just enough rope
To bring her home, she's never alone
Violence in love, her presence she moves
The crescent moon, it can't rise too soon
Black, in black-coffee cafe, jukebox jive
He's so alive it's killing him
His girl works, he shows her the door
He has to score, it's killing him
Shining, silver and gold, everything
He holds, he has sold for his soul
She is escaping from within, mescaline
Frightens her skin, her nerves, quieten
Stronger, the fool took her time
Nearly took her total
She's longing to be strong again
Singing songs, clean and confident
Freedom yet still on the edge
A need to perform, limited reform
Don't want to get at it again
He's doing time, paying his fine
Corrupting society, importing exploitation
Prostituting the situation
In a year, she's still clear, but now he's out
He's roundabout, nothings changed
Still the strange satisfaction
Of manipulation
Of course she falls, no one to call
He holds her tight, says it's alright
You know he cares, he smiles and stares
Fear or love, good god above
God only knows, having been before
Why the need to score
Why go on the game again
A passion for crime, even doing time
Learning new tricks, corrupting young
Hicks, building reputations
Avoiding situations-vacant
Waken in the new black-economy
Talk about arts, poets and tarts
Sculptors, fighters, pimps and writers
