The woman at the window, this is my beloved, this is my wife
And you don't break my heart into pieces and don't make it stone
Come to my house. My door is always open for guests
The forks of the roads in Los Angeles and the city itself are my favorites
I climbed on the bed in my shoes and covered myself with a newspaper
Stole all my clothes while I was sleeping on a picnic
A lot of thoughts in my head is the way to burning