Jon Fratelli - Sex, Love, Money & Death

There'll be no medicine in the morning
There'll be no afternoon repose
There'll be no tongue-tied inquisition
There'll be no secrets to disclose
There'll be no fumble in the dark
There'll be no objects to bequeath
Sex, love, money and death

There'll be no deathbeds on the ceiling
There'll be no Uncle Sweetheart tales
There'll be no undiscovered genius
There'll be no unnecessary details
There'll be no heading monuments
No jokers running out of breath
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There'll be no sychophantic losers
There'll be no boys stuffed down the well
There'll be no mama's little dysfunction
There'll be no peace this side of hell
There'll be no traitors on the wall
There'll be no wolf in mother's dress
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There'll be no swine to disappoint you
There'll be no meat that keeps you thin
There'll be no rumbles in the bedrooms of the thick
There'll be no cage to keep them in
There'll be no clairvoyant patrol
There'll be no grades for you to test
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There'll be no switch to make you happy
There'll be no book that makes you free
There'll be no loopholes that they won't have already filled
There'll be no money on the gumtree
There'll be no consequential crime
No law and order on request
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There’ll be no haunted televisual process
There’ll be no cackle in the night
There’ll be no werewolf apparitions in a jar
No spirits here just out of sight
No doctor jabbering more salvation
No surreal and insane injustice
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There’ll be no words with which to tempt you
There’ll be no visions in the sky
There’ll be no hunter on your trail to make you nervous
There’ll be no sympathy when you cry
There’ll be no system you can speak of
No millionaire to buy you rest
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death

There’ll be no cyanide invitation
There’ll be no secret police to fool
There’ll be no hunchback indiscretion
There'll be no judgment for the cruel
There’ll be no electronic sun
There’ll be no conquest in your bed
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death
Sex, love, money and death