Miss Kittin and The Hacker - Stock Exchange Songtexte

Shaking hands in the back of a Mercedes car,
same whiskies, colas, business, auto-bars.

The wheel of high heals tears me apart
like a Hallmark number one, broken heart.

Attach case changes at my burden arm
carrying the last top secret lucky charm.

Sunglasses on my nose in the pouring rain
dreaming about a hot bath, cutting my veins?

Stock exchange woman
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Is it real this pink punk costume I wear,
all the time to seduce japanese "hommes d'affaire"?

I can smell their expensive after shave,
when they touch my bum in the lift of the Empire State.

Stock exchange woman
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Madonna is into the groove, in my cell-phone
ringing like a non-stop metronome.

My psy told me to go to a spa,
but my jet is flying to Vienna, Austria.

Stock exchange woman

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Stock Ex-change Woman
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