With a goldring tortoise shell glass in her hair
Inky inky finger there's more fear riding here
From the east end of London, past the M25
How many of us will get out here alive?
Oooh

It's a beauty pattern
From the corners of your door
Hose me down and make me clean
I wanna get some more
Numbers on your collar bone
When you be my sun
Whip it out and whip it on
A pressure holds on this
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh