Expresso bongo snaps of rome
In the latin quarter of the ideal home
$#&@s all day and sleeps alone

Just a tiger rug and a telephone
Says a post war glamour girl's never alone


In the seventh heaven on the thirteenth floor
Sweethearts' counterparts kiss
Limbo dancers under the door

Where human dynamoes piss
Adults only over her pubes
Debutantes they give her dubes

Beatniks visit with saxaphones
And the way she eats her toblerone
Says a post war glamour girl is never alone


Mau mau lovers come and go
Dreamboats leave her behind

A baby-doll to go man go
On the slopes of the adult mind
A murder mystery walk-on part

A dead body or a gangland tart
Near the knuckle close to home
Criminal connections you can't condone

A non-doctor's anonymous drone
Says a post war glamour girl's never alone


The section of the populace
They call the clientele
The moguls of metropolis

Defenestrate themselves
In the clothes of a rabbit
You develop a twitch

One of the little sisters of the rich
Amorous cameras clamour and click
Her rosary beads are really bones

Rebel rebel they bug your phone
The post war glamour girl's never alone


Yes there's always a method actor hanging about
There goes mr tic-tac out of the back
With some bric-a-brac from the knick-knack rack

The dumb waiter reminds you of home
And the nice boy from sierra leone
The action painter's got up and gone

Nevertheless it's never been known
For a post war glamour girl ever to be
What you would call

Irrevocably
Alone.