She´s a Virgo
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Well they slip into a survival mode
Pick off the miles in the headlight glow
They're blackheads squeezed on the face of the night
Looking for a cause, looking for the light
And they hang like bait on some philosophy
A mixture of religion and astrology

He's Aquarius, she's a virgo
They almost match, so they give it a go

Cupped in the hands of life's vast machine
They're reasonably happy with fewer dreams
She plays a pretty Barbie to his suntanned Ken
Have a few kids that look exactly like them
And then drift apart like two north poles
Having mingled their juices and missed their souls


All these Barbies, and all these Kens
Is there anything else expected of them?
They crawl this earth like unfinished songs
Leaving small echoes that don't hang around long
And they're meeting in discos, flirting in bars
Running into each other like bumper cars...


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