The bell rings . . .
It's a decade past my decadence
My beast wears rings and he's waiting
In the shadows of my hesitations, my silent
Hesitations . . . Each image is so clear;
It seems I have no hands
The gestures of the air confuse all my demands

And the beast hears the bell; he comes
Out of the shadows. He rips apart the shadows . . .
And he says:

"This is work and not play"
And he says:
"There's always more than one way . . .
This is work not play"

Refrain:
I see the ghosts of my childhood . . .
Dressed in blue, they trail me in the night
They drive these cars with real upholstery
They trail me until . . . here comes the night

She was standing, standing on the balcony