One two three four five six seven eight. I am the raping sunglass gaze. Of sweating man and escort agencies. 60's Alienation the anthem of care. Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. They dig the new scene and their parties. Where stonehenge is worshipped and drugs a deity. Vicarious thrills re-run their youth. We follow we have no voice the dead. Radio nostalgia is radio death. I wanna cover diamonds on my wife. Hardrock nostalgia the Stones on CD. Tranquilised icons for the sweet paralysed. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. So cool the new sound of the decade. Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still. All taste is nothing old pictures blowdried. Rebellion it always sells at a profit. I am a face of fashion in Soho Square. My tie is Paul Smith or Gaultier. My cheeks blood red as my favourite port. But hey cocaine keeps cholesterol at bay. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. Slavery to the beat. Slavery to the chord. Slavery to the pleasure. Slavery to the God. Some god.