When I was just seventeen, sex no longer held a mystery. I saw it as a commodity. To be bought and sold, like rock and roll. Day by day I plunged deeper into a world of cheap sensation. This held a great attraction to me, and I dreamt of my own club. And when I danced, and saw you dance – I saw a gambling room in the back, with prostitutes skilled in the arts of tango, lies and exploitation.
My club was open to all. The brightest lights that you ever saw. The darkest corners for having fun. Happy faces, no questions asked. Late one night, the club was heaving. I saw a vampire move across the floor. Old and white with a silver cane, lusting for youth in the mirror. And when I danced, and saw you dance – I saw a place where the dead are worshiped. This world belongs to them. Now they can keep it.
I live alone and I walk the dark edge of the shop light shadows. In each display a private hell. Name your price. You’re up for sale. And when I danced, and saw you dance – I saw a place where the dead are worshiped. This world belongs to them. Now they can keep it.
The Mekons, “The Mekons Rock and Roll,” 1989