Björk
She lives in this house over there,
Has her world outside it.
Grapples the earth with her fingers
And her mouth, she's five years old.
Threads worms on a string,
Keeps spiders in her pockets,
Collects fly-wings in a jar
Scrubs horse-flies and pinches them on a line.
She has one friend he lives next door,
They listen to the weather,
He knows how many freckles she's got,
She scratches his beard.
She's painting huge books,
And glues them together,
They saw a big raven,
It glided down the sky, she touched it.
Today is a birthday
They're smocking cigars,
He's got a chain of flowers,
And sows a bird in her knickers,
They're smocking cigars,
They lie in the bathtub,
A chain of flowers
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