Raindrops – cold threads sewing the Streets and sky are joining in Patchwork pattern, It could not fit better. Pools like glass shattering, All outside's shivering, I can offer All my comfort. Oh, it's so warm and cosy in my hideaway, Of course, you may come in and stay a while. No, you're not interfering with my occupations, You know you don't need an invitation, smile, I'll get some Yunnan is boiling hot, Nothing is spoiling our Friendly chatter, That's what matters. Words come out general, Don't get too personal. I am patient, Evening's crescent. While words are jabbering Soul is so murmuring I can feel you Try to see through. What you think is obvious – Talk is so ambiguous, I'll give in to This impromptu. Raindrops like fingers tapping my Window sill wrapping my Senses' pleasure Hard to measure. Looks, rain and murmuring Made my body quivering, All is mingled By your cunning linger. Oh, it's so warm and cosy in my hideaway, You always may come in and stay a while. No, I don't think it was a silly conversation, I surely share your perturbation, smile – I am all yours!

(...teen) All are out and they're having a boum; I am home spending a sleepless night inside my wisdom gloom. I don't need it – I am way above. Above their fun, above their boum, and, surely, way above their "love". In my night I'm the ruler of all, Day will come and I shall be the groaning witness of their fall. I was made to be cropped to the cream. I may be dreaming, but I know that it is more than just a dream... With the moon as my companion And my bed too hot to sleep in, I'm not forgetting the oblivion Those others seem to keep me in. I'm writing in my diary That's not meant to be read, I am feeding upon strawberries That I keep beside me every sleepless night beside my sleepless bed. It makes me smile how they care how they look. I don't mind them saying that I spend my life inside a book; I know I am cooler than cool, Even though looking at me they think that I'm the fool. Should I care – I'd look better than them, I'd be the queen of boums, and wouldn't wish to spend my life out of PM. I would be the one admired and adored, But I would leave so many things that I am interested in unexplored... With the moon as my companion And some strawberries at hand, I'm ignoring the rebellion Of the others and their so-called "friends". I wonder why the "class" and "mates" Are others and not me; Guess I don't meet the expectations That the world around has of me; should I try to be the one I cannot be? Should I try to change my clothes? A little more of Hennes-black? Should I party till the metro closes, Then call home to say I won't be back Until the morning? Should I drown my soul in fun? Should I try to join the moaning? Do those things I haven't done (yet)? (Yet) there are things that I can't be – Can't be cynical and practical, Be satisfied with my "me", Knowing I'm a normal mid-statistical, And with time things will change, Shouldn't be bothered with the future, Life is fine and it will rearrange – It's your age that makes you mature... No, I don't think that it's the question of age, damn it! It's not the question of being mature or premature, You and your friends think you're so cool, you think I'm ugly and useless, but it's otherwise, it's all backwards – You are the ones who spend your lifetime with no use; in all this bustle you call "fun", Wearing all this make-up on their face to look like dolls only because the void inside reflects upon it, And not a single normal person could wish to have anything to do with a piece of meat like that, So it's better to be voluntarily reduced to such, than tempting seduction in a bit more exquisite manner Than just transpiring sex from every single pore on that meticulously tanned body. Yes, maybe I am not an eye-candy for you at the moment, maybe you don't care about all the things I could have told you if we only could have a conversation, But the time will come, and you will realise how wrong you were about me, You will realise how wrong you were about the life and what's really important in it, but it will be too late! Too late for you to try to impress me with your friends and your silly behaviour! Because by the time you realise it I shall no longer be interested, I shall be with somebody who loves and understands me! Somebody... Someday... (...teen)

The day is coming and you're calling on me, you need it so – My face on the cover, the face I recover, You don't care what I do, while I look like you need me, While I do what I should do, should be Doux (shoo-bee-doo-wah)... I'm striking the pose, I can be sugar, can be cougar, I can be what you're willing of, willing off, peeling off me, I can what I do. Is it overdue? I could stay after hours, All the time could be ours, yours. Yes, the time, it is yours, But you're paying the price you never thought you could pay, Never thought you would make it, would be here on the site, To witness drapes turn into a legend right overnight. Yes, I can do your presentation of your haut couture sensation, I can do what you need me to, wear it all and do my "Doux", I can be your welcome trend, your number one and only Walking and seducing all to buy what you're producing stand. The photos from that session, are they making an impression? Are they working for you, do you like what I do? (Bee-doo) Want me to do more? Your spring-summer range? No, I don't find it strange, call me up – it can all be arranged! Yes, it can be arranged, It's depending on that what we're willing to pay, You grant me the money, I grant you the name, I'll be the face for your what-you-do, you can have your Doux (bee-doo). I'm paying no money; the price is my soul, Which I lose for the vanity, glamour and fame. No I still have my dignity, I don't live "beyond shame", Don't go calling me names when you need what I do (bee-doo)! The show lasts forever; it's right now or never, Sure it fits like a glove, see me walk, see them falling in love With your clothes, see me striking the pose, They don't care what I do to myself to do my Doux (bee-doo)… It has to be done, I'm here then I'm gone. I can't say what's my passion; I don't think it's the fashion, I just love what I do, my wrinkles are overdue, Still I can do, do all till I stop, stop being my "Doux" (Bee-doo bee-doo bee-doo bee-doo be Doux) Yes, of course, it's not that easy doing all the things that I do (Yes, many others do too), Now you know it from experience – they were being very serious When they said nobody does it better than Doux (bee-doo) can do. Some haut couture here, prêt-à-porter over there, Je dois tout supporter, dois être prête à porter Ce qu'ils veulent bien montrer pour faire baver les maitresses, I'm the case when the hanger is more precious than the dress. They pull tighter on the rope; they're just not losing hope That it's for money that I do what they need me to do (bee-doo), They're crying for foul, it's just not getting through That it's to lose my soul that I'm doing my "Doux" (bee-doo).

I'm putting on all my favourite clothing, My magic purple dress. Into the night by the sunlight closing I walk out to impress... I'll go out and I'll wander, I shall try to look exciting, I'll be as loud as thunder, Brighter than a strike of lightning... Wander, making an impression, Drawing all attention, Sweeter than a box of candies... Fairly following the shapes of my curves It's shading in my skin; The bits of privacy it preserves Should start the fire within... I am out and I wander, I feel that I look exciting, I am as loud as thunder, Brighter than a strike of lightning. Wander, graceful as a panther, Softer than a feather, Sweeter than a box of candies... Filled with nightly sounds and odours the avenue's alive, the avenue's moving; so am I, with the warm wind caressing me, embracing me. Myriads of lights all around are so sweet, so beautiful; so am I – so beautiful, so sweet, but the looks are deceiving, the looks are disappointing. Eyes seem to see me, still they don't seem to care – they move on, to see someone else, somebody but me, anybody but me... Can it be so cruel? How can it be so cruel? Is my beauty shaded by that of the sky and lights? Or is it simply an illusion and there is no way for me to be among so many couples embraced by one another and not just the wind? Getting home by the moonlight closing I'm taking off my dress. My pretty curves and my favourite clothing Unable to impress. I've been out and I've wandered, Seeing all them careless faces, Hardly leaving any traces – No amazement, nothing in the twilight. Failure in the limelight, Sleeping in the daylight, Waiting for the next night I'll wander, I know that I'll look exciting, I'll be as loud as thunder, Brighter than a strike of lightning... Wander, making an impression, Drawing all attention, I'm sweeter than a box of candies...

What hides beneath Is much more intriguing Than anything exterior may provide, But would you unsheathe This sword that is breathing To cause our worlds to start up and collide? Come, dare to go through Things I'm feeling Every day, in their entirety. Come, and I'll lead you Through this unappealing World you're calling my insanity! What my appearance says Is somewhat alluring To you and to others, I presume; In your look I sense The desires you're enduring, Not hard to name, yet much harder to assume. When you look at me Tsurime's all you're seeing (Not that it is untrue, au contraire - there is more), But what appears to be So misleading and deceiving Is your idea of the soul, who You tend to ignore. The world beneath The exterior that pleased you Is fiercely complicated and obscure; A deserted heath, A quest you won't delve into Lest you not feel too insecure. Oh, come! Let me see you Through all perils And obstacles of your sheer reason, Come, and I'll take you To desert windmills And my inner always perfect season!