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