By Steve Harley Cockney Rebel
Hark to Roualt's white insanity,
Clowns in drag concealing vanity,
This is hardly Paradise,
We're still in search of petty scorn.
Images so dead in mourning,
Clap and cheer the man performing,
This is hardly Paradise,
We're still in search of petty scorn.
Couch my disease in chintz-covered kisses,
Glazed calico cloth, my costume this is,
Come to Pablo Fanque's in indigo,
We'll show you pastel shades of rhyme.
Take a letter, Ophelia, write
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