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Demon Host

de Pulp

Watching Nicky turn from a girl into a wife is like watching all the life drain out of Nicky.
Seventeen last June, thirty-four this May.
What else can I say about you, Nicky?

Oh no she's not painting any more.
Spends the evenings locked indoors, and now, something's just not going right for Nicky. Oh yeah.
Her mother said she'd mind the kid, and when it came she never did.
Now you're not smiling anymore, no Nicky.
Oh no no no no no no Nicky.

I remember we went out and got stuck under a bridge.
The kids were throwing stones at me and Nicky.
If I could see her now, I'd shout across and say, "Hey Nicky - run away, do it now Nicky."

Because she's not painting any more.
She spends her evenings locked indoors, and now, something's just not going right for Nicky. Oh yeah.
Her mother said she'd mind the kid, but when it came she never did.
Now you're not smiling anymore, no Nicky.
Oh no no no no no no Nicky. Oh Nicky. Oh Nicky. Nicky. Mamamama (etc).

Oh she's not painting any more. Spends the evenings locked indoors, and now, something's just not going right for Nicky. Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Nicky. Ma ma ma ma ma ma Nicky. Oh whoa whoa whoa whoa oh Nicky. Ma ma ma ma ma ma Nicky. Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah. Nicky.

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