We are guilty, we are beyond hope We beg to differ, we are a terminal case Press darlings, press darlings, press darlings Press darlings, press darlings We depress the press, darlings
We're on the outside, but we're not looking in We are the vaseline gang, don't play your little games Press darlings, press darlings, press darlings Press darlings, press darlings We depress the press, darlings And if evil be the food of genius There aren't many demons around If passion ends in fashion Nick kent / bushell is the best-dressed man in town
Are we different? - no
We are exactly the same There are no boxes for us The ones you love to hate - so read on!
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