Suede

She's the face on the radio she's the body on the morning show

She's there shaking it out on the scene

She's the colour of a magazine

And she's in fashion she's in fashion



She's employed where the sun don't set

and she's the shape of a cigarette

And she's the shake of a tambourine

and she's the colour of a magazine

And she's in fashion and she's in fashion



Oh and if she tells you 2 is 1 then 2 is 1 my love

Oh and if she tells you you should know,

then you should know my love,

She is strung out on a TV dream,

and she's the taste of gasoline,

and she's as similar as you can get to the shape of a cigarette

And she's in fashion

(And the sunshine it blows my mind, and the wind blows my brain).