Raspberry Infundibulum
Shamen, The
In Gorbachev We Trust (1989)

Growing large in a small room, with a sickly air
I was blind to principle, in the neon glare
A gutter goddess with a practice smile
Is the bringer of rough temptation
To another unworthy worshipper, for a small consideration

Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum

Artificial ecstasy, covered every trace
Of the bleak antipathy, underneath her face
So I rushed to the finish of a twisted tale
That I knew was less than holy
Did it sin, dear father? Shall I burn in hell?
For I quite enjoyed the story

Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum

Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum
Here I come, for her raspberry infundibulum