She doesn't need money, she doesn't need diamonds
She's looking for pretty things
She doesn't want romance, she doesn't need finance
She's looking for a rendezvous
But every time she's going down, she never looks around
I'll wait and watch her with my lens and bring the curtain down
There behind the keyhole, with my fish-eye
I'll back in the darkroom, I'm covered in fixer
I'm making a photograph
I'll send her some postcards in glorious colour
I'm keeping the negatives
I'll form a letter from the news with different type from different lines
I'll tell the world about her, I'll mail the People and the Times
Ooh it'll be so scandalous for the both of them
But mainly her
She showed them her husband, he ordered a dozen
He thought they were fabulous
The one with the *** the two of the ***
And three of the ***
He sold her to Hefner, he put her in Playboy
He gave her a centre-fold
I made a real blunder, she made it in movies
I made her a superstar