The Whore Of Babylon - The Legendary Pink Dots

Mirror tiles, a mirrored ceiling.

She preens, adjusts her hair.

She pouts, a wink.

The perfume stinks, it’s lovely, like fresh air.

Saints are queuing at the door: their haloes on a chain.

They’re always after more and more.

The whore of Babylon: she turns nobody away.

Nobody away.

They pay, they play, the …

fly.

It’s never straight — it’s on the floor, it’s in the kitchen.

No-one's ever bored, 'cos the whore of Babylon knows how to make a man feel

like a man.

Can you?