When you're not there, funny things happen
like people singing in the underground
On the tram to the centre of town you look around you,
You see the arguing couple, the old moroccan man,
the stops that you know
And you have the feeling they’re all playing a role
When you look round they just pretend
And stop acting again when you turn your back
In the greyest morning you feel it’s there
Out of sight, slightly out of reach.
When you get the feeling you have seen everything
You change your way to work
We were all standing at the Seventh Hole
And we learnt to cross Boulevard Lemonier
To take a turn into the Zebra and change sidewalks to escape.
You’re stumbling through filmsets, you’re crashing through time tables and appointments.
The slow tram takes its time but you're travelling in your mind.