| Out on the square the world won’t stop
|
| The homeless lady plays Egyptian pop
|
| Down in the market they sell books and spices
|
| At cheap prices
|
| And now there’s a breeze
|
| At Guerrisol we found a pretty blouse
|
| You tried it on back at the house
|
| It suits your colour, it’s fine for size
|
| Brings out your eyes
|
| And now we’re inside
|
| The blinds are lowered, the sheets are red
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| Our bodes caramel across the bed
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| Out on the square the world won’t stop
|
| It’s on the hop
|
| But we’re inside
|
| I think there might be a thunderstorm coming
|
| The stalls are closing, the tourists running
|
| Some guy is shouting, alsatians barking
|
| Trash trucks parking
|
| But we’re inside
|
| The shades are lowered, the sheets are red
|
| And how we sweat as we push the bed
|
| Out on the square the sweet din won’t stop
|
| Sirens, cops
|
| But we’re inside
|
| This is the place that I love the best
|
| My surge of pleasure, my palace of rest
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| Your sex is salty on the tip of my tongue
|
| And now the rain comes with a gentle thrum
|
| But we’re inside
|
| So be my lover and be my wife
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| For all that’s left of my perfect life
|
| Don’t want to be anywhere else
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| Til my last breath
|
| But inside |