S.P.O.C.K. Ice Machine. Zeneszám

Running through my head secretly
Shout at the boys in the factory
I'll ring you on the telephone silently
Like blood, like the wine in the darkroom sea

A letter, once composed
Seven years long and as tall as a tree
Reading on the wall
Efficient, efficiency

Resurrect, as a feeling
on my window, of a past reunion

A vision of a picture
like the city and the air we breathe

She stood beside me once again
I knew her face
We met before, in the street
recalling all the children dancing at our feet
Their dancing feet