As you lie there on your bed 

Beneath the face of Louise Brooks 

With your makeup and your teddy bear 

And your C.S. Lewis books 

Bad seed 

You're a bad seed 

You're a decadent in chrysalis 

Waiting sleepily to emerge 

When you'll visit every seedy need

Of your random obsessive urge 



All the ruses that you use 

All the food that you refuse 

All the dust and tired air that feeds Interior Lulus 

All the poisoned attitudes 

And the lust for the unknown 

And the second best that devils use

To make this world their own 

Interior Lulu 

Interior Lulu 



Every rainy day by e-mail 

As you lie there on your bed

Another virtual page arrives 

There will be times when you remember me

Of the chapters you'll be writing 

As the voices echo in your head

In the book called wasted lives 

As you read Henry and Anais



All the lost weekends and booze

All the finger-and-thumb screws 

All the sleepless worn out blues that bruise Interior Lulus 

Interior Lulu 

Interior Lulu 



Use the anger 

Paint a picture of it 

Throw the colours 

Use the pain, use the pain



Scream back a brand new emotion 

As it runs across the skin 

Fire across paper

Burn and curl, burn and curl



You thought you couldn't feel like this 

But it's happening again and you're waking up in pain 

Tattooed in that private place 

Microsoft and tears 

Intimately pierced 



Discovering and remembering 

You felt like this somewhere before 

Stirrin' up the bed of the river 

Somewhere you don't like to go 



You wrote this down so many times 

But you get up anyway and you write it down again

You've bored us all to death with this 

Well who you gonna tell 

When you've nothing left to sell 



She says she's lonely

She says she knows me 

But she's a one-way street



She told me what I already know



"If you can carry it out you can take it away

If you can carry it out you can take it away 

If you can buy it, it can be bought 

If you can buy it, it can be stolen

If you can break it 

It's already broken" 



Lately, I can stand to hear other people talking

So many empty conversations 

What a waste of lips 



Lately I can stand to stand on Primrose Hill 

Look down upon the city 

A heart pumping the roads



In our racing stripes 

We rejoice at being "connected"

Without touching 

Thank god for the internet 



We stare at our screens 

All our lives

What a waste of eyes

'Till the electrical storm blows our fuses 

And we gaze, dumbfounded, at the rain 



All the trust and tired care

Left to rust and go nowhere 

All this gold beneath my skin 

Sparklin' like sin somewhere within 

In so deep

In so deep that 

I can't sleep for these interior Lu lu lu lu lus