Look at her how she's serving
whiter than her apron
How she keeps up her tray
and her dignity
A rose in the shells
and a Goddess amongst the mortlas
the trap to become again a mess
Becuase you already feel like Cagney,
in front of Rita Hayworth
in the bad smell of the underground life
You wonder if she's alone
if she gets scared, if she gets angry
she will give you some signal
stay a bit more and you will see
She asks you "Will you drink something"
and you hear it as if it's a poem
you say: "I dont know, whatever in whatever way"
It will be a pity if someone else takes her from you
Since you were the first to feel the corals of her depth
But then again maybe all of these
are just a trick for you to become again a mess
But her, she has the way
to empty your ashtray
laughing at a joke, that you will never say to her
and you want to leave, but you are drunk
and at your house there is still
that sea of debris of your lost life
A sea of bottles, and books and smoke
and everything you need to become again a mess
But for sure also her has been hurt
some guy could be in the middle
One of those gym guys
at the stations of "Evga"
who would want her to be more paper
more blonde, more naked
and who of course never would have said "I love you" to her
Simply he might have found another one from a different neighbourhood
and left the other one in a big mess
Tonight a train is leaving
for a beautiful and strange place
But for the first time
you feel that everything is happening here
Jesus is being born in a month and whatever you wish for you should start
Everything will always be black but will hide a fire
and tomorrow you will be here again
but finally you will say to her
that only for her you want to become a mess