There goes a man the very soul of Satan
He rushes in while others are debating
Cock-eared conniving with all the trimmings
I know one thing that brings him down it’s women
In women he feels deep pathology
And then he feels his old sexual dependency

Some turn to the Bible
Some stick with the law
Some meditate until it’s half past four
Some turn to Christ some anarchist
At lunch you pick the best wine on the list
At tea-time what high ideals you’re brewing
But come the night time you’re down some black hole

Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing

They’re all the same in love’s confusion
Geniuses stuck on prostitution
Those who swear they will forbear the clinches
Whose arms are they in the wenches
They feign resist their lush authority
And then they feel that old sexual dependency

Some turn to the Bible
Some turn with the law
Some meditate until it’s half past four
Some turn to Christ some anarchist
At lunch you pick the best wine on the list
At tea-time what high ideals you are pursuing
But come the night time you’re down some black hole

Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing
Screwing

Sexual dependency