笨小笨fashion (Explicit)歌词由one clear mind演唱，出自专辑《one clear mind (Explicit)》，下面是《fashion (Explicit)》完整版歌词！
fashion (Explicit)歌词完整版
Who’s he think he is……… talking to me like that - fucking cunt there's no need.
Wearing his cheap clothes and coming out with his cheap comments showing off to his student fucking mates. Wearing his knowck of fashions and coming out with his borrowed slang, thinking he’s cool. The street is full of cunts like him
I’m out on the street all day, watching, observing, - I see that shit, the trendies, the wanabees, the desperate followers – sticks out a fucking mile don’t it when you know what your looking for.
And I’m looking aren’t I – not for that kind of self indulgent bollocks though –
I’m looking for things that really matter - working out which one of those fuckers is going to give out – never his type though, too busy spending money on cheap clothes done up in the name of fashion in some third world sweatshop,
Jesus the irony! Following a fashion two years too late – two years after some genuine idea has been bastardised. Although half the time even that’s a media’ cultural studies crock of shit creation anyway. The so called movement is actually stated by art school flunkies trying to pretend they’re not so obviously middle class, trying to impress each other in some desperate attempt to be different, or even worse to ‘say’ something.
Punk – what a load of bollox, a bunch of public schools kids from Bromley slumming it up on the Kings Rd. I mean who makes a statement through fashion unless they’re desperate or a cunt or both –start a real riot if you want to say something, don’t wear a newly ripped or painted pair of trousers for fucks sake.
Anyway even if it was genuine for five minutes it has now been filtered though some privleged effette Italian designer, a cunt so posh he doesn’t even realise it. Who think’s he’s created or captured some ‘vision’ or ‘statement’ about youth culture, or even worse about ‘society’. And what he means by this is a part of society that consists of people he’s never met apart from when he’s been buggered by a bit of rough, screaming for his mother who has disowned him for betraying the church, in some back alley for a tenner.
His monstrosity is then worn by some inadequate fashion model with anorexia, or some other indulgent affliction, who’s thinks that being tall and momentarily pretty, is gonna make up for the fact that she knows her dad still hates her, just as he told her all those years ago. Forgetting, he told her this at the same time as he told her to keep quiet, while fucking her instead of her mum. Her reminding him of his own inadequacies
Him then turning away from the daughters pleading eyes, her face a mirror to him of all the failed chances he had squandered to make a connection with another human being who he did not have power over.
Meanwhile mum was lying down in their room desperately trying to sleep though her gin/ tamazipam induced waking nightmare, pretending that what was so obviously happening was not going on, cause it’s a reflection on her.– God, no wonder they both hated her.
Theme three: shallowness of artists
I mean for fuck’s sake why else would anyone need such instant adulation from fucking strangers, yes your beautiful, or amazing or talented or whatever. Only if you are so fundamentally fucked up that they can only get satisfaction through such shallow fucking projections. Anyway they are all like that, musicians, artists, writers - in fact most of us who need to be approved of by people we don’t know.
