Yesterday you lay awake on your bed. And worked out you'd done everything that you said. That you'd do before you got to this age. The lord of the bored and a slave to the beige. It's a mystery. It's a mystery. You want some history. It's a mystery. So last night you got up and out of this room. The ceiling is peeling and covered in gloom. But Jaguar Shoes is a place you can stare. A procession of lessons in what not to wear. It's a mystery. It's a mystery. You want history. It's a mystery. Today while you shake off the drunken debris. All that is left is the vague memory. Of down in the grout of a night on the tiles. It's hard to remember but totally worthwhile. It's a mystery. It's a mystery. You want some history. It's a mystery. It's a waste of money you have to admit. If it's a waste of money you have to have it. It's a waste of brains but hard to resist. If you wanted mystery you've blown it. It's a waste of money you have to admit. If it's a waste of money you have to have it. It's a waste of brains cells hard to resist. If you wanted history you missed it. If the girls start moving the boys will start moving. If the girls start moving the boys will join in