crooked as corkscrews

"I fancy the hip, rock & roll scenester.
I wanna be fucked, and then rolled over
’cause I’m an independent woman of the 21st Century.
No time for nits. I want sex and debauchery;
I read Glamour, and the Guardian;
I like flowers and I’m hearty and I take cocaine.
I don’t give a fuck about her, I want your name.
I can get fucked like the best of men –"

like the best of men, like the worst of pain
inflicted on another young girl again.
Impressed by another guitar hero;
he’s a top score and you’re a zero;
you’re outta your league.
There ain’t no rubber on the tracks,
it’s gravel. You fall hard, cut quick
and it’s an STD, a cut knee.
You’re a side-of-stage grasp, a laugh,
an aftershow party in a bath;
fucked and expected to be fucked.
A gasp from an uninformed intruder;
the crowd go wild and things get ruder.
They’re already out of hand and there’s no one here
to take your hand. It’s a cold shower
and a scramble for a dirty pair of knickers;
don’t get yours mixed up with hers.
Now get out of bed, get out of bed,
get out get out get get out of bed.
Get up, get down and get undressed ’cause that’s
what you do best: strip, strip, strip & shag,
fuck, get fucked and drag; and be impressed
by the better sex. Take a piece of raw vegetable
and hold it to your breast, and say that you stood for nothing.
You were just a hole that lacked passion.
Another undignified product of society.

That girl should have been a mansion.