The Town That Lost Its Groove Supply

There was Esther in the street, a look of stunned decay
There was Milo in his skirt, an apathetic grey
Autumn leaves refuse to fall, Alphaville’s unscreened
A row of silent discotheques, the council not convened
The glory that was Morey’s Sex Shoppe is down to its last X
Cardboard boxes line the curbs all filled with old T-Rex
A hole punched in the whiskey flask
A thousand tanks all parched for gas
Billboard babies eulogized
You’ll never know if she’s in order
You’ll never know what she’s about
You just try to keep yourself together
When the Groove Supply has given out
You’ll never know if she’s in order
You’ll never know what she’s about
The town that lost its Groove Supply is breathing its own dust
The town that lost its Groove Supply just needs to be discussed
But no one cares, no one can care, surely none of us
The last time I saw Groove Supply she was getting on the bus
You’ll never know if she’s in order
You’ll never know what she’s about