Mr. Richard Paroles

Still a caterwauling groove will start off vacation

Eighties plastic Soul don't give palpitation

Richie, he no like, he call out the firing squad



Ba ba ba . . .



Richie look for suede, me I look for leather

Sartorially we groove, occasional disaster

For tight black canvas no make for a straight legged sixties scenester

Then we hit the street with poise of commando


Ba ba ba . . .



Me and Richie dream to be like Mr. Richard

Strung out secure, yes, we make like junkie

Hooked up on that stuff they call it the rock 'n' roll

I need to consecrate, I need consecration

Clipped and soulful guitar riffing out the nation

The nation in my head the national sixties sensation



Ba ba ba . . .