We fell to the street, full of noise,

With a view to bring the dawn in.

But clashed with the Burtons' shirts

Who saw us as a chance for brawling.

Well, they'd shopped and shaved like brain-dead clones,

And bashed and bruised our skinny bones

For dressing slim and keeping shaggy heads.

The doormen took to their chips

While we fashionably took a pasting.

Then came down to give us a kick

From the doorway that we had laid in.

Well, it's wonderful and glorious

To have the shit kicked out of us

For dressing slim and keeping shaggy heads