| Song | Righthand Heart |
| Artist | Momus |
| Album | Tender Pervert |
| 作词 : Currie | |
| I meet this girl with a righthand heart | |
| I notice nothing until we start to kiss | |
| And my hand goes beneath her dress | |
| To the lefthand breast | |
| Downstairs the party's going full swing | |
| The people we came with haven't noticed a thing | |
| As I tease the teat with my teeth | |
| I feel nothing underneath | |
| She puts my ear across her chest | |
| Rests my head against the righthand breast | |
| Sure enough her heart is there | |
| Loud and clear | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of her body | |
| And though I know there's nothing dangerous in it | |
| I'm feeling queasy, getting worse by the minute | |
| Wondering how to escape this nightmare | |
| When up the stair | |
| Comes this boy with no heart at all | |
| Him and her they make the perfect couple | |
| Him so blind in his rapacity | |
| That he doesn't even see it | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of her body | |
| And as I contemplate this mating of rapacity and sickness | |
| Of which I am the fascinated, unwilling witness | |
| I see he couldn't care where her heart might be | |
| And I say "what the hell is wrong with me? | |
| Am I just too pure and too proud?" | |
| And as the bed creaks I ask myself aloud | |
| "Could it be that what makes me a freak Is my contempt for freaks?" | |
| I start to sweat, I feel it approach | |
| Familiar self-hate, familiar self-reproach | |
| And under my guard again it beats so hard | |
| My righthand heart | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of my body | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on |
| zuò cí : Currie | |
| I meet this girl with a righthand heart | |
| I notice nothing until we start to kiss | |
| And my hand goes beneath her dress | |
| To the lefthand breast | |
| Downstairs the party' s going full swing | |
| The people we came with haven' t noticed a thing | |
| As I tease the teat with my teeth | |
| I feel nothing underneath | |
| She puts my ear across her chest | |
| Rests my head against the righthand breast | |
| Sure enough her heart is there | |
| Loud and clear | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of her body | |
| And though I know there' s nothing dangerous in it | |
| I' m feeling queasy, getting worse by the minute | |
| Wondering how to escape this nightmare | |
| When up the stair | |
| Comes this boy with no heart at all | |
| Him and her they make the perfect couple | |
| Him so blind in his rapacity | |
| That he doesn' t even see it | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of her body | |
| And as I contemplate this mating of rapacity and sickness | |
| Of which I am the fascinated, unwilling witness | |
| I see he couldn' t care where her heart might be | |
| And I say " what the hell is wrong with me? | |
| Am I just too pure and too proud?" | |
| And as the bed creaks I ask myself aloud | |
| " Could it be that what makes me a freak Is my contempt for freaks?" | |
| I start to sweat, I feel it approach | |
| Familiar selfhate, familiar selfreproach | |
| And under my guard again it beats so hard | |
| My righthand heart | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The wrong side of my body | |
| Beat, beating, beating on | |
| The right side of oblivion | |
| Beat, beating, beating on |