Under the burning sun, the weight untied, a corpus flows.
And a ship sails on, wearing horsehairs, showing the beautiful leg.
On cherry blossoms fallin', faithful wives sitting in a row, in the monde at the home front. Or, on cherry blossoms fallin', faithful wives sitting in a row, in the nights at the home front.
No visitors to her sicking in bed, shakin' her spoon, to bloom flowers of bouillon.
Hanging down a handrail, a costume of the laughin' clown, blood covers.