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Up before the Flesh Parade... The pretty faces... The bedroom eyes... The
pouting lips. The longing thighs say "Come in for a night, you won't
regret it - but don't make any plans". She likes a man, but a hand is just
as effective. A mutual need. No need to talk. No moonlit walks, no
sun-drenched beaches. Just a bed and just an alarm clock, says your time
is up. Go find another body (boy, girl) in the Flesh Parade.
The line-up never changes. And, sure, nobody's perfect. Just good at
Perfect crimes. We have the standard phrases; ask the time. How about
the weather? Don't care about the spots. My only interest is your mind.
(Got the time for a grind in the Flesh Parade?)
