| «Oh look at me», that sweet boy’s plea
|
| His mother cried, «My child’s tied his laces»
|
| Why must we move on from such happy lawns
|
| Into nostalgia’s palm and feed on the traces
|
| Do you hop to the dance or embarrass the parents?
|
| Who should I please? |
| I go to sleep worrying
|
| That blood in the dark will attract the sharks
|
| Who are not violent we all got hungry bellies
|
| But where are the still unborn who could look at me with the one eye
|
| Who could look at me with no eyes
|
| Who could look at me with me in their eyes
|
| What’s pain? |
| What’s sadness anyway? |
| It’s not crying like a child
|
| What’s graying? |
| What’s aging anyway? |
| It’s not growing in the wild
|
| I feel like I’ve just been born
|
| When you look at me with your green eyes
|
| When you look at me with your black eyes
|
| When you look at me with your dead eyes
|
| And I can’t understand when holding her hand
|
| So womanly, I have to go and kiss her
|
| And what a surprise to look in those eyes
|
| To find suddenly he is Jack, the Ripper
|
| Too suddenly he was Jack, the Ripper
|
| There we go!
|
| He stopped crying like a child
|
| She stopped crying like a child
|
| Jack, the Ripper
|
| Jack, the Ripper
|
| Jack, the Ripper |