The slackers guide to undermining authority.
She was thirty when she wore her first high heels,
Early morning station platform knowing how it feels,
Just knowing, just knowing, knowing is the best,
You can file your experiences down with all the rest.
Red is the colour and the flame is burning on,
Get back to the week before but her navigation’s gone,
She was a singer, that was the band,
She says the music kept her soul in their command.
It’s early morning and she’s sore in her high heels,
Somewhere a young boy wakes not sure last night was real,
But it’s a graveyard shift that tends to make you six foot tall,
But he can’t explain, he can’t see past this bedroom wall.
This is the slackers guide to undermining authority,
I wrote the book on it in nineteen eighty-three.
Don’t put your dead mail packages in my love tray anymore.
You wear me out, you burn me out, I’m back for more.
The fundamentalists have made a basic big mistake,
They thought the plan they had had everything it takes,
Your heaven’s sounding nice but where are all your friends?
Your happiness in there is nothing but pretence.
My money worries are something I never share,
It’s my bank manager, whose back’s bent in despair,
I gave all his money to the lady in high heels,
She drives a white van handing out her meals on wheels.
I follow signposts and I follow GPS,
I find that following things tends to make less of a mess,
But just when you think you’ve landed at your destination,
Click clack, her high heels walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels are walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels taking me to my destination.