They could be fat or could be thin They could be black, they could be white Tell me who is knocking at the Knocking shop door tonight Not much a girl can do but open or close Those things are above doors Not much legs can do but open or close Those things are above us whores So imagine a mirror Bigger than the room it was placed in Imagine my wish for a future that cannot hold my wish Imagine the want to hold a rod that cannot hold the fish Imagine a rod that cannot hold the fish They could be lonely or could be bust They could be tack, they could be real They do have feelings, but just right now I feel A feminine receptacle, that's just what I am Those things are above us whores Just the best target practice, for a misguided man Those things are above us whores So imagine a mirror Bigger than the room it was placed in Imagine my wish for a future that cannot hold my wish Imagine the want to hold a rod that cannot hold the fish Imagine a rod that cannot hold the fish (Not much a girl can do) la la, la la (But open or close) ooh, la la la, la la la (Not much legs can do) da la (But open or close) Those things are above us whores (Not much a girl can do but open or close) Whores, whores, whores, whores (Not much legs can do but open or close) Those things are above us whores (Not much a girl can do but open or close)

(Ramones) They're forming in straight line They're going through a tight wind The kids are losing their minds The Blitzkrieg Bop They're piling in the back seat They're generating steam heat Pulsating to the back beat The Blitzkrieg Bop Hey ho, let's go Shoot 'em in the back now What they want, I don't know They're all reved up and ready to go They're forming in a straight line They're going through a tight wind The kids are losing their minds The Blitzkrieg Bop They're piling in the back seat They're generating steam heat Pulsating to the back beat The Blitzkrieg Bop Hey ho, let's go Shoot 'em in the back now What they want, I don't know They're all reved up and ready to go They're forming in a straight line They're going through a tight wind The kids are losing their minds The Blitzkrieg Bop They're piling in the back seat They're generating steam heat Pulsating to the back beat The Blitzkrieg Bop Hey ho, let's go Shoot 'em in the back now What they want, I don't know They're all reved up and ready to go The Blitzkrieg Bop The Blitzkrieg Bop The Blitzkrieg Bop

Everybody's talking at me I can't hear a word they're saying Only the echoes of my mind People stopping, staring I can't see their faces Only the shadows of their eyes I'm going where the sun keeps shining Through the pouring rain Going where the weather Suits my clothes Backing off of the Northeast wind And sailing on the summer breeze Tripping over the ocean Like a stone Oh, oh, whoa-oh Whoa-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh oh, oh-oh Oh, oh la-la la I'm going where the sun keeps shining Through the pouring rain Going where the weather Suits my clothes Backing off of the Northeast wind And sailing on the summer breeze Jumping over the ocean Like a stone (like a stone) Everybody's talking at me Ooh, ooh ooh-ooh ooh-ooh Whoa, whoa, whoa Hey Da, da, da

(Heaton/Rotheray) Like the contents of your handbag You don't know why it's there People ask you where you're heading You just answer "anywhere" We don't mean to be this vague It just happens that we are No-one asked us to elaborate We just shrug our shoulders and be And like the stories that just happened No-one thought of, no-one planned We could have ruled, we could have conquered Then we could have been a man We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone He knows "hello" in eighteen languages "I love you" in only one By the time he's got his phrase-book The chance is usually gone And we feel ourselves quite prepared But quite prepared for what We always took the lead Before we actually knew the plot And you can tell where we've been shopping By the bags beneath our eyes Make-up shoulders burden But the smile never lies We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone So empty at the airport You don't set off the doors We used to feel like chorus girls And now we feel like whores Hearts built like reservoirs Words built like dams Thoughts built like juggernauts Our actions built like prams And when the wind blows into our face We should be warmer and not colder Well, what price the charges On this cargo that we shoulder We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone And we only smoke when bored So we do two packs a day And we've lost the difference Between bored and lonely anyway