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)