I eat the windownI drink the window shadenI shrimp in limbonI fish in northen Spain, next to PortugalnI make all the fishes uncomfortablenThey foot the bill, I toe the linenThey're looking ill, I'm feeling finenI live in a comic at the bottom of the baynAnd my thought bubbles up when I've got nothing to saynAnd I give all my earnings to a perfect facsimilenAll I want is a portable carnSo I won't have to drive when I'm not going farnAnd I'd take it to you if I knew where you are