She`s the face on the radio
She`s the body on the morning show
She`s there shaking it out on the scene
She`s the colour of a magazine


And she`s in fashion. And she`s in fashion
She`s employed where the sun don`t set
And she`s the shape of a cigarette
And she`s the shake of a tambourine
And she`s the colour of a magazine

And she`s in fashion. And she`s in fashion
She is strung out on a TV dream
And she`s the taste of gasoline
And she`s as similar as you can get
To the shape of a cigarette
And she`s in fashion
And she`s in fashion
(I said the sunshine it blows my mind and the wind blows my brain)

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