She makes me so unsure of myself

Standing there but never talking sense

Just a visitor you see

So much wanting to be seen

She'd open up the door and vaguely carry us away



It's the customary thing to say or do

To a disappointed proud man in his grief

And on Fridays she'd be there

And on Wednesday not at all

Just casually appearing from the clock across the hall



You're a ghost la la la

You're a ghost

I'm in the church and I've come

To claim you with my iron drum

la la la



The Continent's just fallen in disgrace

William William William Rogers put it in its place

Blood and tears from old Japan

Caravans and lots of jam and maids of honor

singing crying singing tediously

(Les Tuilleries -- instruments sans voix)



Efficiency efficiency they say

Get to know the date and tell the time of day

As the crowds begin complaining

How the Beaujolais is raining

Down on darkened meetings on Champs Elysee