Stains on the bedsheet,
A fire in your eyes,
Stains on the bedsheets,
And groupies for the guys.
We all went out to Montreux,
Cos the Swiss girls were there too,
How to find a decent groupie,
We didn't have a clue.
Max Headroom and the Car Parks,
Had the best girls in town,
All we got were the worn out tarts,
Who didn't fancy going down.
A few red lights and a crate of beer,
We'll make ourselves a place to sweat,
And when we finally get out of here,
We know that we will never forget.
We wore out the water beds,
They split with an awful sound,
The drummer in the room below,
Was comatose with dope and drowned.
We really set the place alight,
There was drink and drugs and sex,
We had ten groupies each at night,
After a week we were really wrecked.
We lost our lead guitarist,
He was smothered by a great fat whore,
Were we discouraged? Not one bit,
The next night we just went back for more.
The bass guitarist found some slag,
He took her back for the night,
Spent their time in a twelve-hour shag,
And died there right between her thighs.
I only got out through sheer good luck,
But I lost all my guitars,
And lost 5 groupies when the place went up,
I had to save my own ass.