Patetices...

A loucura é uma prostituta de rua. Uma rameira barata, que se vende por escassos tostões. Informei-a de que tinha um papel do médico. Uma prescrição de poções mágicas à prova dela, da loucura. Todavia, derrotou-me. Ainda bem.

"This bed is on fire

With passionate love

The neighbors complain about the noises above

But she only comes when she's on top

My therapist said not to see you no more

She said you're like a disease without any cure

She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no

Ah, you think you're so pretty

Caught your hand inside a till

Slammed your fingers against the door

Fought with kitchen knives and skewers

Dressed me up in women's clothes

Messed around with gender roles

Dye my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door

I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall

I found you're sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone

You're driving me crazy, when you're coming home

Pretty"

'Laid', James