Well then I dreamed we were washed up in New Guinea
Castaways on a hostile shore
Purple waves on the salty ocean breaking
The music flowing underneath your bedroom door
Wouldn’t you know it, that’s a fact
Wouldn’t you know it, just in time for your vanishing act
I said «Hey Isadora, get undressed»
As if that’s any way to treat a guest
Like the wild winds above us, frothing on the sky
You’ll become immortal on the day that you die