I descend from this solitude
I scatter things on a chalk floor
There are mere foolish daydreams torturing me
Photographs cut out in newspaper leaves
Often
I'm going to throw you
In a cloth to store confetti
I'm going to throw you in a cloth to store confetti

I fire cannonballs
It's useless, because there is a grand vizier
There are so many old violets without a hummingbird
I wanted to use maybe
A straitjacket
Or from Venus
But I'm not going to enjoy us
Just a cigarette
Nor will I kiss you
Spending my lipstick like this

Now I catch a truck
In the canvas I'm going to knockout again
I've always been chained
On your heel
My twenty years as a boy
That's over, baby
Freud explains

I'm not going to get dirty
Smoking just one cigarette
Nor will I kiss you
Spending my lipstick like this
As for the confetti cloth
My carnival has passed
And this explains why sex
Is a popular subject

Besides, I'm leaving, baby
Besides, I'm leaving
Besides, leaving, baby, baby
Besides, I'm leaving
Besides, I'm leaving, baby, baby (besides)
Besides, I'm leaving, baby
Besides, I'm leaving
Besides

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