All of them dreaming strange inventions in the shade Thirty 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 ten out of nine times The water's cold All the redfish leave my feet alone Crush of people walk along the street The perfume they wear smells good to me And what a mystery That I could want you still It's a mystery That I would pick you ten out of nine times The water's cold All the redfish leave my feet alone Crush of people walk along the street The perfume they wear smells good to me And what a mystery