Maid of Bond Street, David Bowie. Available on any of a number of compilations of His early works, I have "London Boy." The words go by pretty quickly in some places. Even if I can't make out the words, I've put in nonsense syllables that approximate them.
This girl is made of lipstick, Powder and paint,
Sees the pictures of herself, every magazine on every shelf.
This girl is Maid of Bond Street, hailing cabs,
Lunches with executives, gleaming teeth, sipaparatives (thats what the words sound like, I have no idea what they really are.)
This girl is a lonely girl
Takes the train from Banning Turn(?) to Oxford Turn(?)
She reads the daily news but passengers
Don't smile at her, oh no, don't smile at her.
This girl is made of loneliness, a broken heart
For the boy that she once knew doesn't want to know her anymore.
And this girl is a lonely girl,
Everything she wants is hers but she can't make it
With the boy she really wants to be with
All the time, to love all the time.
This boy is made of envy, jealosy
He doesn't have a limosine, really wants to be a star himself.
And this girl, her world is made of flashlights and film
Her cares are scratched on the cutting room floor
And Maid of Bond Street, ride 'round in chauffeured cars
Maid of Bond Street, picture clothes, eyes of stars
Maid of Bond Street, children have love affairs G C (tacet) Maid of Bond Street, children have worldly cares.
FCCCFG.
Ending on the G works, and I haven't figured out the last little bit. So there it is.