All of them, dreaming strange inventions in the shade
30 mile an hour domestic winds
Blow away my nice domestic things

The ground is full of improbable vegetations
Black and heavy branches cut the sky
Mechanisms work behind my eyes

What a mystery that I could want you still
It's a mystery that I would pick you 10 out of 9 times

The water’s cold
All the red fish leave my feet alone
Crush of people walk along the street
The perfume they wear smells good to me

What a mystery that I could want you still
It's a mystery that I would pick you 10 out of 9 times