In the haze of the morning, China sits on Eternity
And the opium farmers sell dreams to obscure fraternities
On the horizon the curtains are closing

Down in the orchard the aunties and uncles play their games
Like it seems they always have done
In the blue distance the vertical offices bear their names
Like it seems they always have done
Clocks ticking slowly, dividing the day up

These poor girls are such fun
They know what God gave them their fingers for
To make percussion over solos

China, my China, I've wandered around and you're still here
Which I guess you should be proud of
Your walls have enclosed you, have kept you at home for thousands of years
But there's something I should tell you
All the young boys, they are dressing like sailors

I remember a man who jumped out from a window over the bay
There was hardly a raised eyebrow
The coroner told me, "This kind of thing happens every day"
You see, from a pagoda the world is so tidy