Lyrics:

Every day I see you wearing things that have never been worn before
While the children at the government schools send money for the poor
And all you buy you bargain for with your little man
So that from your silks down to your paramour, your tres, tres paragon
So it's a back beach in the summer
The chalet for the snow
You poor Hoochie Gucci Fiorucci Mama
You got really no place to go
Antiques flown in from Venice fill your house upon the hill
While your money sold the soul of rock and roll for some cheap disco thrill
I've seen your peers pouting over beers, the loneliness it showed
Mistaking tacky sex for sensuality, they bought in Toorak Road
So it's a back beach in the summer
The chalet for the snow
You poor Hoochie Gucci Fiorucci Mama
You got really no place to go
Inside her empty castle, her lonely heart will dwell
The life that she's been losing's like some stony bagatelle
The loving that you never found, you don't know the reason why
Oh, Hoochie Gucci Fiorucci Mama, don't you cry