All my lazy teenage boasts

Are now high precision ghosts

And they're coming 'round the track to haunt me

When she looks at me and laughs

I remind her of the facts

Up from suede shoes to my baby blues

Dream helps you forget

You ain't never danced a step

You were never fleet of foot, hippy

All the pathos you can keep

For the children in the street

For the vision I have had is sweeping

New broom, this room, sweep it clean

Fine figure fine cut a fine figure fine, oh, yeah

Now my rhythm ain't so hot

But it's the only friend I've got

All the pretty birds have flown

Now I'm dancing on my own

Up from, suede shoes, my baby blues

Fine figure, fine cut, a fine figure fine, oh yeah, yeah