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La femme coupée en morceaux

de Rufus Wainwright

People pray for sunny weather, and for clear blue skies
Shadows seem to suit me better, 'cause I've got cloudy eyes
People chase the latest folly, following the crowd
But me, I'd rather miss the trolly, and stay here in my clouds
Stay here in my clouds

Let them go to fancy places, drink their bootleg rye
The way I want to spend my days is under cloudly skies
All around me, trumpets blowin', blowin' long and loud
It sounds just like a hymn to me, a symphony of clouds
I'll stay here in my clouds

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