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