The wings of the Rolls brushed against the pylons
When despite myself I got lost
We arrived my Rolls and I in a zone
dangerous, an isolated place
Over there, on the hood of this Silver Ghost
from nineteen-ten, is moving forward as a scout,
the silver Venus of the radiator
Whose the light veils are flying at the forefront.
Haughty, disdainful, while screaming the post
of Radio covering the silence of the engine
She sets the horizon and the mind elsewhere
seems unaware the sidewalks that i accosting
Back alleys, dead-ends with parking Prohibited
by law, the heart indifferent
She holds the reins of my twenty-six horse power
Princess of darkness, cursed Archangel
Amazon modern style that the sculptor
In English, nicknamed Spirit of Ecstasy
So I messed around before losing
the control of the Rolls. I advanced slowly
My car drifted and a violent clash
suddenly pulled me out from my daydream. Fuck!
I saw a bicycle wheel in front,
which continued to roll freewheel
And like a doll who lost her balance
Her skirt pulled up on her white underpants
‘What’s your name?’
‘Melody’
‘Melody what?’
‘Melody Nelson’
Melody Nelson has red hair
And it’s their natural colour.