| I believe all that I read now |
| night has come off the corners |
| shadows flicker sweet and tame |
| dancing like crazy mourners |
| the man with the hotdog sells lemonade |
| someone over there needs first aid |
| while me and the rest of the world |
| await the touch of the motorcade |
| no one finds time to turn a blind eye |
| you can’t be too careful nowadays |
| and my friend says «Listen… |
| to the stupid things they’re making you say» |
| Here comes the motorcade |
| Moving so slow and hard |
| like a snake in a closet |
| holding the sway in the boulevard |
| here is your man |
| all faces turn unanimously |
| the small fry who sizzle in his veins |
| in all security |
| In the back of his car |
| into the null and void he shoots |
| the man at the centre of the motorcade |
| has learnt to tie his boots |
| in the back of his car |
| in the null and void he sees |
| the man at the centre of the motorcade |
| can choose between coffee and tea |
| In the boulevard — the motorcade holds sway |