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).