Psycle sl*ts, Part 1 lyrics
by John Cooper Clarke
This disc concerns those those pouting prima-donnas
Found within the swelling J. Arthur Ranks of the sexational psycle sl*ts
Those nubile nihilists of the North Circular
The lean leonine leatherette lovelies of the Leeds intersection
Luftwaffe angels locked in a pagan paradise
No cash
A passion for trash
The tough madonna whose cro-magnon face and crab nebular curves haunt the highways of the UK
Whose harsh credo captures the collective libido like lariats
Their lips pushed in a neon-arc of dodgems
Delightfully disciplined, dumb but deluxe
Deliciously deliciously deranged
Twin-wheeled existentialists steeped in the sterile excrements of a doomed democracy
Whose post-nietzschean sensibilities reject the bovine gregariousness of a senile oligarchy
Whose god is below zero, whose hero is a dead boy
Condemned to drift like forgotten sputniks in the fool's orbit bound for a victim's future
In the pleasure dromes and ersatz bodega bars of the free world
The mechanics of love grind like organs of iron to a standstill
Hands behind your backs
In a noxious gas of cheek to cheek totalitarianism
Hail the psycle sl*ts
Go go the gland gringos
For the gonad a-go-go age of compulsory cunnilingusa