| Well, its the last call at the fag end
|
| Of the wrong bar at the bad end
|
| Of the wrong side of a dog town
|
| On a one way road that takes you down
|
| From a shit creek, and back again
|
| The doors swing open and they all come in
|
| From the arse end of a sick world
|
| A bus load of Yakuza girls
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| Yakuza girls, chicks of doom
|
| Fanning out to cover the room
|
| Smokin' Luckys, climbin the bar
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| Drinkin' saki from an old fruit jar
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| Yakuza girls, 12 o’clock high
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| Fishnets all the way to Hawaii
|
| Playin' karioke and singin' along
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| With the key words of a lock’n’loll song
|
| Well, ya get to see 'em all comin' through this place
|
| Every household name then forgotten face
|
| Every fucked up, low down, pin tucked, rewound
|
| Siliconed, pillsucker has been that ever found
|
| Jesus in the bottom of a bottle, Yeah
|
| I reckon I’d seen it all, but I swear
|
| I never seen this much potential romance since
|
| Lovelace Watkins split his pants
|
| Yakuza girls, climbin' the walls
|
| Chewin' on gum, grabbin' my balls
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| And tellin' me to cough, seein' how far
|
| They can pole dance off the end of the bar
|
| Yakuza girls, doin' the dog
|
| With a yo-yo in and outa the bog
|
| Who’s that haulin' on a rubber glove
|
| Yakuza girls, lookin' for love |