Из альбома: Stranger on the Sofa
You see, that’s the way the world is Not a lot you can do about it Except to accept
There was a time I thought about it Plenty of time I thought about it Then decided not to Here in the hole; I’m surrounded by fools
Degenerates and phonies
I suffer a constant bombardment of nonesence from all sides
When central control rendered me surplus to requirements
My imprinters relocated to the ruins of Paris, where I regenerate
My new face accepting me immediately without the usual problems
I operate a program of self denial
Yet languish in polymorphous perversity as is my want
Each day, although I believe I’m free;
Something pulls me back into a past made real only by their understanding
And all the while the calls come in, and keep coming in (and keep coming and
keep coming…)
And still;
I’m hunted for my flesh
I’m hounded for my beauty
In a world turned on its head
I steady myself, ready to enter (ready to enter)
They believe I know everything, but if my master’s memory serves me well
In fact I know nothing
And so they will find me;
And in the middle of a cold afternoon, they will ask:
«What is it exactly that you know?» (exactly exactly exactly…)
And then, they will take me outside
And they will kill me That much I do know