Song for clay

I am trying to be heroic
In an age of modernity
I am trying to be heroic
As all around me history sinks
So I enjoy and I devour
Flesh and wine and luxury
But in my heart I am so lukewarm
Nothing ever really touches me
At the Trois Garcons, we meet at precisely 9 o clock
I order the foie gras and I eat it with complete disdain
Bubbles rise in champagne flutes, but when we kiss I feel nothing
Feasting on sleeping pills and Marlboro reds
Self-pity won't save you
Oh how our parents suffered for nothing
Live the dream like the 80's never happened
People are afraid to merge on the freeway
Disappear here
We stroll past the queue, into the magazine launch party
I am handed a pill and I swallow it with complete disdain
Kick drum pounds off beat high hats remember to look bored
We suck each other's faces and make sure we are noticed
The cocaine won't save you
East London is a vampire it sucks the joy right out of me
Dressed like the cover of a magazine. I've aged so in these golden years