On our way to Glasgow
I nearly let myself go
When I see you in the front
Staring at yourself
You regain the wheel
Laugh and tell us nothing is real
I find it totally bizarre
To think of you this way
And I know you don't mean it
So then why do you do it
If it was only up to you
And I know you don't think it
So then why do you say it
If it was only up to you
You're in rare form tonight
Consuming Sauchiehall Street
And regurgitating flesh
In the shape of things to come
Those magazines you read
Don't think I haven't seen you
Do you wear image like a cloak
Do you wear image like a cloak
Or crawl inside of it to die?