She sees flames in the kitchen, it's a vision of hell
And a sign that madam is not feeling well

Like the pigeons in the yard, she's getting fat on starch
She's cooking for sailors and combing her hair in the dark

She loves everybody, she'll even love me
When I'm born in the traffic on the rolling seas
She's in over her head
She's in over her head

It's either the pacing of the woman on the floor above
Or long static shots of half-naked men in the desert

But she loves everybody, she'll even love me
When I'm born in the traffic on the rolling seas
She's in over her head
In over her head
She's in over her head
In over her head