All of them

Dreaming strange inventions in the shade

30 mile an hour domestic windsBlow away my nice domestic things

The ground is full of improbable vegetations

Black and heavy branches cut the sky

Mechanisms work behind my eyes

What a mystery (mystery)

That I could want you still

It′s a mystery (mystery)

That I would pick you ten out of nine times

The water's cold

All the red fish leave my feet alone

Crush of people walk along the street

The perfume they wear smells good to me

And what a mystery (mystery)

That I could want you still

It′s a mystery (mystery)

That I would pick you ten out of nine times