While he sits and stares
At girls he can't explain
Oh here she comes
On ten white horses made of string and clay
The flowers in his fingers slip away
A wise old lover said
That lies do not deceive
So when she sleeps I'll leave her bed and hurry home instead
My soul is on a string tied to the chair
And why is it I pray
To Gods that always fail
To drag that girl back through my window and undress my faith
And smile at me while I put on my chains
