Michael On Fire: Music
Intelligence Ain't What It Use To Be
She climbed the social staircase
With cocaine in her nose
All the rock and roll boys
In their Melrose Avenue clothes
The motorcycle fashion shows
With sequins on their chaps
The sad and angry poets
Selling advertising raps
Intelligence aint' what it use to be
All the tattooed ladies
And their oriental blades
The niave new age soldiers
In their Carribean shades
The writings on the buildings
The law that rules the streets
The lifenessness of boredom
And the deals between the sheets
Intelligence aint' what it use to be
The suicidal merchants
And the pills that numb the pain
The crystal cosmic jewelry
Comfort for the brain
You have a club that makes you healthy
And sex that makes you die
Stress for your convenience
But the dreams that make you try
Intelligence aint' what it use to be