Blackmail
She doesn't need moneyShe doesn't need diamondsShe's lookin' for pretty thingsShe doesn't want romanceShe doesn't need financeShe's looking for rendezvousBut every time she's going downShe never looks aroundI'll wait and watch her with mylens until she brings the curtain down'There behind the keyhole'with my fisheyeI'm back in the darkroomI'm covered in fixerI'm making a photographI'll send her some postcardsIn glorious colourI'm keeping the negativesI'll form a letter from the newsWith different type from different linesI'll tell the world about herI'll mail the People and the Times'Oo it'll be so scandalousFor the both of themBut mainly her'She showed them her husbandHe ordered a dozenHe thought they were fabulousThe one with the --The two of the --And three of the --
He sold her to HefnerWho put her in PlayboyHe gave her a centre-foldI made a real blunderShe made it in moviesI made her a superstar