I should peddle butterflies — there’s a shortage in the city
I’ll stand on the street corner, all mysterious and giddy
when the passersby pass by, I will open up my trenchcoat
they will see the butterflies dangling like fake rolexes
every morning I’ll wake up with a purpose and a smirk
I’ll put on my fake moustache
I’ll drink Heineken, eat cornflakes…
