Lyrics:

Adam Ant There they go the buccaneers Hand and hand in leather glove So fast so crazy With a creepy kind of love Bright lights, black leather Bright lights, black leather Some towns make me anxious Others sane but sad But West Berlin's by far the strangest time I ever had All night town of punks and art All saying look at me Never seen so much black leather Even on car hoods Surrounded by East Germany So They want to know just who you are Or how they can amuse you Squatters freaks Mohicans Or even a wall of voodoo If I had to sum it up Without sounding too clever I'd have to say my life has been A case of bright lights Black leather