Björk

She lives in this house over there,
Has her world outside it.
Scrapples in the earth with her fingers and her mouth
she's five years old.

Thread worms on a string,
Keeps spiders in her pockets,
Collects fly-wings in a jar
Scrubs horse-flies and pinches them on a line.

She has one friend, he lives next door,
They're listenening to the weather,
He knows how many freckles she's got,
She scratches his beard.

She's painting huge books,
And glues them together,
They saw a big raven,
It glided down the sky, she touched it.

Today is a birthday
They're smoking cigars,
He's got a chain of flowers,
And sows a bird in her knickers,

They're smoking cigars,
They lie in the bathtub,
A chain of flowers.