In the beginning there was nothing &,
to be honest, that suited me just fine.
I was three weeks late coming out of the womb
In no great rush to join the rest of mankind
where there were:
Further complications -
further complications in store.
I was not born in war-time &
I was not born in pain or poverty.
I need an addiction,
I need an affliction;
to cultivate a personality.
I need some:
further complications.
Further complications in store.
Your life is just a carrier-bag.
The enemy without has now moved in somewhere else.
If your parents didn't screw you up, why not do it yourself?
Go fight your battles - go to a disco.
You want to suffer? Go to a Rock Show.
Do you follow me?
Then follow me to:
Further complications -
further complications in store.
Your life is just a carrier-bag.
Over-fill it and the straps will snap.
& I used to think that people all chose lives they led
But there's so many other choices
that you've got to make instead.
Don't write a novel; a shopping-list is better.
It's a complicated Boogie & I don't know any better, baby.
Further complications -
further complications in store.
Your life is just a carrier bag.
Over-fill it and the straps will snap.
Further complications - Further complications
Do you follow me?
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