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wait at the car
open my door
some gesture than men used to do
on your skin as usual
only first rate material

how can rebels be so kind and virtuous
like a gallant knight you ride me fast
from nancy to the lac lemain
and by the way you grab my hand
and fall into the sand
i know you are not dangerous

you write on screen like someone
from two hundred years ago
that the storm in gatwick has gone
but blowing madly in our hearts
how can rebels grab like that
and be so reliable
upto now a plane crash
was quiet fancy for my biography
and when you beam with these blue eyes
i never ever want to die
i know you are a miracle

we're at the port my skirt is short
it used to be political
and i hope i really hope
bernard could see us now

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