Kitchens of Distinction Follow

From bicycles to platform heels
School uniform to flares
A little silver make-up
Black eyeliner in swathes
We took the train to London
On the Bed-Pan freedom line
Going to a nightclub, oh, to a nightclub in Soho

It's a scream, don't look down
We can be those cosmonauts
We can be space fantasy
We're a scream, we don't look down
We’re soaking in the glamour
From Japan to Jupiter

Hanging out at Eric's
In cobwebbed frilly sleeves
Dressed roughly as Victorians
Dressed drastically as Queens
Paint a red disc on your forehead
Some lightning 'cross your cheek
Jonesy says it how it could be
His sun machine, his starry man
His Major Tom, his Berlin hands

They’re a scream, don't look down...

Staring at the record sleeve
For hour after hour
I want to be an astronaut with glitter and space power
I want to dye my hair red
Hold a fag just like a girl
Freeze in thick wool overcoats
In the shadow of the wall
And the record goes around, around
And the needle gathers dust
They shout for me to turn it down
If I don't get out of here I'll burst.

I want to scream, I want to fly far away
Japan/Jupiter
Full of cleverness and charm

Goodbye then to platforms
To the Rollers and white jeans
The make-up has caked up
And the fantasy's unreal
Still I'm glad I took the London train
On the Bed-Pan freedom line
Went out to those dodgy clubs
And changed back to my school uniform in the Gents on platform 9

We had a scream, we never looked back
We were those cosmonauts lost in outer space
A scream, don’t look now
With a head rush of glamour, we spun the world and all inside her around
Spun the world and all inside her around