I'll make you a deal like any other candidate We'll pretend we're walking home 'cause your future's at stake My set is amazing, it even smells like a street There's a bar at the end where I can meet you and your friend Someone scrawled on the wall, "I smell the blood of Les Tricoteuses" Who wrote up scandals in other bars I'm having so much fun with the poisonous people Spreading rumours, and lies, and stories they made up Some make you sing and some make you scream One makes you wish that you'd never been seen But there's a shop on the corner that's selling papier maché Making bullet-proof faces, Charlie Manson, Cassius Clay If you want it, boys Get it here thing So you scream out of line, "I want you, I need you Anyone out there? Anytime?" Trés butch little number whines, "Hey, dirty, I want you When it's good, it's really good and when it's bad, I go to pieces" If you want it, boys Get it here thing Well, on the street where you live, I could not hold up my head For I put all I had in another bed On another floor, in the back of a car In a cellar of the church with the door ajar Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kind But we can't stop trying till we break up our minds Till the sun drips blood on the seedy young knights Who press you on the ground while shaking in fright I guess we could cruise down one more time With you by my side, it should be fine We'll buy some drugs and watch a band Then jump in the river holding hands