Things are shaping up to be pretty odd

You used to get it in your fishnets, now you only get it in your night dress
Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness. Landed in a very common crisis
Everything's in order in a black hole. Nothing seems as pretty as the past though
That Bloody Mary's lacking a Tabasco. Remember when he used to be a rascal?

Oh that boy's a slag, the best you ever had
Is just a memory and those dreams not as daft as they seem
My love when you dream them up...

Flicking through a little book of sex tips. Remember when the boys were all electric?
Now when she tells she's gonna get it. I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget i
Clinging to not getting sentimental. Said she wasn't going but she went still likes her gentlemen to not be gentle
Was it a Mecca Dobber or a betting pencil?