There´s a television
There´s a television speaking to me
There´s a French girl
On my television
She´s crying in the palm of my hand

In moving mental
I read the paper, or just the photos
I rip one out with my hand
There´s a massacre
Across the o-, across the o-
Across the ocean
I can see it in the palm of my hands

(Me hundo cada vez más al fondo)

Below the ground floor
We´re losing signal, we´ve lost connection
I left her dying, she was still crying
And now she´s lying in my head

Above the third rail, shrapnel flying
Next door´s wobbling

But I´m riding to the end
What am I good for? Am I good for?
I´ve got no signal
Abandoned, to the voice in my head

I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I-

I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone my ex
I phone-