Welcome to the city, my suburban queen
Did you find it so exciting, the sub-proletarian scene
Did you watch the dreamers dreaming, staring into thin air
Always climbing ladders that should not be there?
It’s down to you
So don’t blame me It’s the age-old story
And it probably was the plan
A suburban queen
And a workin' man
I’m as nutty as a fruit cake, and you’re as mad as hell
All my mates are thieving bastards, yours wear Chanel
We moved into a flat near King’s Cross, and we had the time of our lives
But every good party comes to an end sometime
Did you thrive upon our poverty, have orgasms over our desperation?
And all the time you had a ticket back to that old suburban station
Where you watch the dreamers dreaming, staring into thin air
Always climbing ladders that should not be there