He's moving into an art deco pad 
To swell the ranks of the clinically sad 
Shaking off the past with a change of address 
But keeps his telephone number and hopes for the best 

He makes a list of all his favourite friends 
Then leaves his footprints on the steps 
That shine with tears that he has wept 
again... and again...and again... and again... 

He bought his clothes from a skateboard boutique 
Hung around in places where nobody speaks 
Got on line to an internet club 
Played trivial persuit with the godess of love 

And counted his imaginary friends, 
Got up to ten, lost count and then 
Went out to walk the streets 
'Til god knows when 

He met a girl who liked a bit of a laugh 
He gained the youth that he'd forgotten to have 
So now they mess about with things that are highly illegal 
Often get mistaken for interesting people 

And no-one ever seems to ring their bell 
But do they care, well do they hell 
They're gonna kiss and never tell 
again... and again... and again... and again