| There’s a girl in a window
|
| Twisting braids in her hair
|
| There’s a girl in a window
|
| But there’s no window there
|
| She is weaving her fingers
|
| Through each tangle and turn
|
| It’s a moment to linger
|
| It’s a moment to burn
|
| The world’s a cinder
|
| Yo soy muy linda
|
| Sit back and watch me…
|
| There’s a bird in the cupboard
|
| There’s a bird at the gate
|
| There’s a bird on my headboard
|
| And a bird on my plate
|
| There’s a cloudburst of starlings
|
| Pouring down on the square
|
| And a girl in a window
|
| Twisting braids in her hair
|
| The world’s a cinder
|
| Yo soy muy linda
|
| Sit back and watch me…
|
| I’ve been talking a blue streak
|
| But it’s all so absurd
|
| With this small noisy creature
|
| Tearing holes in my words
|
| There’s a glass on the nightstand
|
| And a bed still unmade
|
| And a girl in a window
|
| With her hair in a braid
|
| The world’s a cinder
|
| Yo soy muy linda
|
| Sit back and watch me…
|
| The world’s a cinder
|
| Yo soy muy linda
|
| Sit back and watch me… |