Lyrics:

[The lyrics are taken from the book 'A Clockwork Orange']

We sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to
do with the evening, a dlip dark chill winter bastard though
dry. What they sold there was milk plus something else. They
had no license for selling liquor, but there was no law yet
against prodding some of the new veshches which they used to put
into the old moloko, so you could peet it with vellocet or
synthemesc or drencrom or one or two other veshches which would
give you a nice quiet horrorshow fifteen minutes admiring Bog
And All His Holy Angels and SAints in your left shoe with lights
bursting all over your mozg.

There were three devotchkas sitting at the counter all together,
but there were four of us malchicks and it was usually like all
for all and one for one. These sharps were dressed in the
heighth of fashion too, with purple and green and orange wigs on
their gullivers, each one not costing less than three or four
weeks of those sharps' wages, i should reckon, and make-up to
match (rainbows round the glazzies, that is, and the rot painted
very wide). Then they had long black very straight dresses, and
on the groody part of them they had little badges of like silver
with different malchicks' names on them - Joe and Mike and
suchlike. These were supposed to be the names of different
malchicks they'd spatted with before they were fourteen.

There was a doddery starry schoolmaster type veck, glasses on
and his rot open to the cold nochy air.

He looked a malenky bit poogly, then he-- hahaha. What the fuck
does 'poogly' mean? I dunno but this Anthony Burgess guy sure
seems to like it.
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