The blown out Belgian sky Is weeping on you and I We’re soaked down to the tit We’ll make our bed in it Jerusalem at dawn Your pink hair turns them on They holler from windows But I’m just proud to know
That we spit on their notions That our love parts the oceans That our love fuels their motion Yeah, we spit on their notions
At Prague in sausage stalls But still we hit the mall In search of a Starbucks Americans like us
Yeah, we spit on their notions Our love parts the oceans Our love fuels their motion And we spit on their notions
And we spit on their notions Our love parts the oceans Our love fuels their motion And we spit on their notions