Walk up to failure
Walk up to regret
Walk up to a place you’ll never forget
Passed the pregnant guard
Then a red paradise of dreams and scars
Leg scars, arm scars, belly scars lead by far
Slow down
The marks of the old country's dog
The old cliche exploitation blues
No offers no young hungry men could refuse
“Welcome to Hell”
She may as well say
As you walk up, walk up
You walk up on love on your lunch break
Walk up, walk up
Walk up to see God, to see Sweet Jane

You still smell her snatch
As you trawl the accounts
Flip through the company books
You can say you rode the coattails of blind chance
I know that you’rе itchin' for romance, another lonely businеss cunt
The kind that only knows how to pay to touch
In the boardroom
Your fish fingers shake hands with the top flight men
Check your balls for lumps once they’ve left
What’s that itch?
Is that new?
Is that workin' as it’s supposed to?
Am I alive?
Is she sleeping with eyes open?
There’s a place for your briefcase
But watch out for the wandering hands
And walk up
Walk up
You act like that's how you spend your days
Walk up on love on your lunch break
Walk up
To see God, to see Sweet Jane
To pay for a new name
For love on your lunch break
You can make a life of these pretty things, or just get by on the brink
You're asked as you're both walking past
Fading indifference
No idea, enough to live I suppose
When the favourite catches your eye, eye
She stays quiet in her exhale of relief
The humiliation is almost complete
Chalk it up to blind fate
Tomorrow [?] for love on your lunch break
You're gonna walk up
You fucking prick, you fucking pervert
Walk up
Walk up