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Nostalgic Pushead

One, two, three, four

Five, six, seven, eightI am the raping sunglass gaze

Of sweating man and escort agencies

60's Alienation the anthem of care

Now a knife constantly slashing eyelidsSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the GodThey dig the new scene and their parties

Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity

Vicarious thrills rerun their youth

We follow, we have no voice, the deadRadio nostalgia is radio death

I wanna cover diamonds on my wife

Hard rock nostalgia the Stones on CD

Tranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzedSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade

Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still

All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried

Rebellion, it always sells at a profitI am a face of fashion in Soho Square

My tie is Paul Smith or Gaultier

My cheeks blood red as my favorite port

But, hey, cocaine keeps cholesterol at baySlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat

Slavery to the chord

Slavery to the pleasure

Slavery to the God, some God

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