She sees flames in the kitchen, it's a vision of hell

And a sign that madam is not feeling well

Like the pigeons in the yard, she's getting fat on starch

She's cooking for sailors and combing her hair in the dark

She loves everybody, she'll even love me

When I'm born in the traffic on the rolling seas

She's in over her head

She's in over her head

It's either the pacing of the woman on the floor above

Or long static shots of half-naked men in the desert

But she loves everybody, she'll even love me

When I'm born in the traffic on the rolling seas

She's in over her head

In over her head

She's in over her head

In over her head