Mojo.

The monarchy’s in mourning,
Every queen and every corgi,
Every princess has been seen to sob and cry.
Every starlet, every harlet,
Every daughter oughtta keep
A minuets silence with the NWI.
Governmental scientists,
Are working day and night on this,
Anthropologists won’t say if we’ll survive,
Without me in the gene pool,
There’s a half a million people,

In this city with a sadness in their eyes;

My Mojo’s gone missing.
Thanks to thirty six weeks of bad JooJoo,
A hand full of Yanks and a Crank’s BooHoo...

Oysters offer themselves up to me,
Doctors feed me aniseed,
Aphrodite’s placed white lilies at my feet.
Rhinos amputate their noses,
Tigers hand me panda bones,
I got one of every Chinese remedy;

My Mojo’s gone missing.
Thanks to thirty six weeks of bad JooJoo,
A hand full of Yanks and a Crank’s BooHoo...

Witch doctors and voodoo priests,
Whatever you can do, do please,
To fix the biggest threat that’s facing woman kind.
Councillors can’t crack it,
Psychologists cant unwrap it
There are therapists to terrified to try,

It’s a mystery and more than that, a crime!

My Mojo’s gone missing.
Thanks to thirty six weeks of bad joojoo,
A hand full of Yanks and a Crank’s BooHoo,
Preacher’s wives, priestesses, this effects you too...

My Mojo’s gone.

Jacqui

Jacqui exits the strip club, zips up her coat,
Picks up her brown leather bag full of clothes,
Hundreds of pairs of underwear stare,
Up at Jacqui like rags full of holes,
Maybe tomorrow, she thinks to herself,
She’ll take the cash she got stashed and just go;
Russia, Alaska or anywhere cold,
Any country she has to wear clothes.

She’s sick of the stench of the warm leatherette,
Sick of the smell of the stale cigarettes,
Sick of the pricks that start dripping with sweat,
From hiding, disguising whatever’s erect;
They sit on their hands producing saliva,
Shifting their pants as their trousers get tighter,
Desperately thinking of some way to find a
Woman like Jacqui who will let them inside her.

Well, maybe tomorrow, she thinks to herself,
She’ll take the cash she got stashed and just go,
Russia, Alaska, or anywhere cold,
Any country she has to wear clothes.
Or tomorrow’s tomorrow, she thinks to herself,
As she’s done for a month of last nights,
Russia, Alaska, she don’t really know,
I’ll ask her next time and she might.

Lorretta

Monday he met her all glitter and smiles,

Yellow hair and a Marilyn mole,

Her skin was the colour of a country with sun,

Not that Loretta ever did go.

On Tuesday he went in and saw her again,

She worked in crummy old bar,

A ten minute walk from his crumbling home,

With a stench of cheap sweat and cigars.

Lotti, Loretta, call her whatever you want to she’s not gonna hear,

The music’s too loud and even without she’s been diced up and sliced ear to ear.

By midweek he loved her like nothing he knew,

Wednesday night was the night he would ask her,

He sucked up his guts and marched up to the bar,

He said ‘marry me!’, she died of laughter.

On Thursday he purchased electrical tape,

Several tea towels some sheets and a saw,

‘I’m no fucking joke’ was his slogan that day,

And he walked out to meet her once more.

Lotti, Loretta, call her whatever you want to she’s not gonna hear,

the music’s too loud and even without she’s been diced up and sliced ear to ear.

Loretta woke Friday, battered and gagged,

Blood on the front of her dress,

She gurgled and purred and she bubbled and squeaked,

And she squirmed like a loose sack of rats.

For two days he kept her, the coroner says,

Until sometime on Saturday night,

'I’m no fucking joke' he said one final time,

Before slicing her throat left to right.

Lotti, Loretta, call her whatever you want to she’s not gonna hear,

the music’s too loud and even without she’s been diced up and sliced ear to ear.

He worked through the Sabbath day, hacking and slashing,

Cracking her limbs with an axe,

He split up her trunk up into movable chunks,

And then stuffed every lump into sacks.

A week ago Lotti was glitter and smiles,

Yellow hair and a Marilyn mole,

Her skin was the colour of a country with sun,

Not that Loretta ever did go.