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Oh watch now, the naive girls
walking in evening dreams
and stand in dust pools, dry and rocky.
Tell me, my love, how do they stand so perfectly straight,
among the talks of good and evil, among the talks of you and me?
Look at their posture, and how they stand quiet and watch us,
kissing over yonder, on the cliff hangers of dancing mountains,
on cool summer afternoons.

They stand on dry rocks and boulders and their feet don't bleed or bruse.
Impressive you must say,
I say it is love that is gone from them
and now they live in dust pool, surrealist dreams.
Clouds of imagination crowding the realism of mortal lives,
thinking they are inmortal and in love with men who walk in fancy jackets,
that drive fast, red cars. They are not happy, and I know, for how they look at us.

Oh watch now, the naive girls,
waking from a nightmare of love falling into the sea
and the singing nightingale that stop singing her favoured songs.
When the nightingale stops, love is forsure not around.
The nightmare brings them down to reality,
the naive girls living in dreams, while walking on the dirty and dusty sidewalks of reality.
Naive girls who long for respect, but offered nothing but hell and hate, and disrespect,
and no choice do they have, for simple boys have them by the hand,
pulling them to overwhelming situations and taking them against their will.

Naive girls, living surrealists lives.
They are sleepwalkers, they are daymares,
(nightmares in the break of day)
They scare me, and I fear for their hearts.
Hearts are played, but they don't notice, for they are living a surrealistic life
in the mortal world of reality.

Sad to see them go through the shadows of night,
as we sit upon the cliff hangers singing love songs,
while the mountains dance to our simple tones.
We kiss and cuddle and live life as one, in love with you.
While the nieve girls dream of having what we have, True Love. True Love.

Envy and Wrath shall over power the hearts of lonesome, naive baby girls,
who long for love in all the wrong places.
Going against the sands of time, to be the first ones to be loved,
but rush and find themselves in the end unhappy and ever-so nieve and dreaming.
Dreaming of what?
Dreaming of us, kissing and cuddling under the twilight,
and wishing for their prayers of love songs of naive girls be answered by a simple man
or a simple sign, that love is around every corner of the real world.
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