| Casual sex
|
| Is it irrational? |
| (Yes!)
|
| I think it’s time to find out why
|
| And soon I fall asleep, it’s nighttime
|
| In a dream there’s a dolphin
|
| And a soldier, they’re walking
|
| Through the sand and toward a morgue
|
| In an office there’s a hostess who has
|
| Carried our friend
|
| And wheeled him into a drawer
|
| She pulls his file
|
| The air is cold
|
| Down the aisle we follow her
|
| I’m thinking casual sex — the feeling
|
| Casual sex — the soldier’s life’s the same as mine
|
| And he’s attracted to a nun
|
| But the feeling of sex is nothing possible yet
|
| A new wave soldier’s standing next to a young nun
|
| The nun just has to pace
|
| Her gothic skirt over her legs
|
| They’re getting warmer toward the insides
|
| And their tops
|
| «The inexistence of time» is not a painting, it’s life
|
| They’re into robes and gloves
|
| Goblet glass and crosses
|
| The feeling of sex is nothing possible yet
|
| A new wave soldier is standing next to a young nun
|
| The sound of her voice
|
| And the handle of the robe
|
| Are getting thinner as the whip begins to speak
|
| The nun just strikes a pose
|
| The soldier’s helmet hits the floor
|
| He’s walking backward
|
| Until he’s pinned against stained glass |