In this world of contradictions
We go on by intuition
We're apparently persistent...
Without hopes, without base, without pleasure
Without names we don't know what is our purpose
Everywhere we look there's pose
Beautiful peel and rotten core
Everything is imperfectly aesthetic
We don't defy this mechanism
We don't design a new design
We just keep it like this
Without hopes, without base, without pleasure
Without names We don't know what is our purpose
We don't know, we keep it like this
Impulsively, we follow the traces of culture
We blindly use the dictates of fashion
We like to keep it like this