Lyrics

Chelsea Girl

I’m feeling ugly on a wet afternoon , in Chelsea , in August
I’m surrounded by all the beautiful people , washed up and ready to party
their paint and their powder, running down the channels of guilt
in their famous faces of fame In the pissing rain .

Meanwhile, I slip out the back , for a fag
got a light , you say , and there you are
Bedraggled stock still all ripped jeans and casual aura , Fake tan , Big hair
How old are you? She says , How old do you think I am ?

Last time I’d seen her , was Christmas Day 2018
Bare foot on the marble floor , Terminal 3
Back from Africa Big smile Sunny demeanor No luggage
Carrying a fucking wooden fertility doll ,
I’ll drive , she says , I passed my test in Ghana .