Sex-Eye-Make-Up - The Glove

Run around the chairs in your Sunday dress

It’s the best thing money can buy

Or leave me on the stairs with my feet in the air

I think that I’m jazzy like Christ

One more cigarette and the car burns slow

Burning like the body waiting at home

Throw out your teeth and call all your friends

Someone’s coughing took away my breath

Inches of glass all shiny and new

Screaming laughing fucks me to death

One more boy full of writhing white mice

Rolls over again in a London disguise

The blood bath woman in room number one

Sex-eye-make-up tonight

She just woke up today to do as she’s told

Do you want to touch her?