In all my fantasiesnSo many fly above my headnI sighed see angrynSo many fly above his headnHe says, 'we always have these stars'nSome street they're innMy street street, now soldnMy street street, now minenStreet street, nownStreet streetnSo many fly above my sighsnHe sighs, 'we always have these stars'nSome street, my human part isnSo many fly above your headnI sighed, 'see them, be them'nHe sighed, 'such things are human'nSo many fly above my headnI sense the angry partnHe sighed, 'such things they leave their pits'n'Pick my feet up proudly,' said henI have sighed, 'Less of these: lonesome youngest, lonely, just a plea'n'Pick my feet up proudly,' said henI have sighednI have sighed, sighed, sighednHe said, he said, he said