Dirty Epic (Remastered)

Sweet in winter, sweet in the rain
"Shake well before use," she said
"You never touch me anymore this way"

Connector in, receiver out
You let me in through the backdoor

Ride the sainted rhythms on the midnight train to Romford
Ride the sainted rhythms

Sweet in winter, sweet in the rain
"Shake well before use," she said
"You never touch me anymore this way"

Oh, no
Connector, connector, connector, connector
(You're a) connector, connector, connector, connector

I'm so dirty
And the light, it blinds my eyes
(You're) oh, so dirty
And the light, it blinds my eyes
Here comes Christ on crutches

Ten cents to boot
Check him undercover
Huh, who else?

"Call me wet trampoline," she said today
But I was too busy with my head

"Shake well before use," she said
"But you never touch me anymore"
I was busy listening for phonesex
Coming through the back door

In her skin tight trunks
And we all went
Mental and dancing

Ah, yes, did you get in?
Tell the others, did you get in
Look in the dirty erotic fantasy
Huh? Hey
Big thoughts

I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I can get my kicks on channel six
To the off-peak electricity

And the light blinds my eyes
And I feel dirty (oh-oh)
And the light blinds my eyes
And I feel so shaken in my faith
Here comes Christ on crutches

And here comes another God, comes another God
Like a buffalo thunder with a smell of sugar
And a velvet tongue and designer voodoo
But I got phonesex to see me through
The emptiness in my 501s
Freeze-dried with a new religion
And my teeth stuffed back in my head

I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I can get my kicks on channel six

I get my kicks on channel six
The light, it blinds my eyes
And I feel so dirty (I feel so dirty)
Here comes Christ on crutches (Christ on crutches)

I will not be confused, will not be confused
You left me confused
I will not be confused with another man

Dirty dozen dirty
Second fizzles
Son of cockroaches
This pressure of opinions

Lighten up
"Listen to your eyes," you said
But all I could see was Doris Day
In a big-screen satellite
Disappearing down the tube hole in Farringdon St
With whiplash-willy, the motor-psycho

And the light, it blinds my eyes
And the light, it burns my eyes

I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six
I get my kicks on channel six