I’ve been thinking about your hands today…
You know, when you won’t let me reach you
when you hide behind that bitter grown-up’s smile
All I am left with are… your hands
As if your entire being lowers
and submissive, well-behaved,
they let themselves be loved
Why are you laughing? you know, if one day I died,
I would bequeath my body to your hands…
Are you in a hurry? oh, there’s somebody waiting
But it doesn’t matter right now
Look… today I feel beautiful
I simply feel beautiful and this makes me incredibly daring
Today I want to wipe off that irony in your smile
You’ve made me feel like a mere schoolgirl
those afternoons I’d come running to meet you, my bag full of books
my knees in silent mutiny under the uniform
My tied-up, nutbrown hair reluctant and restless

Well I know you’re being waited for, you’ve told me
But tonight I won’t let you go
Tonight we’ll take a walk on Karol’s Bridge
And I’ll tell you the story of every statue, of every pebble
And, who knows, perhaps we’ll talk about Kafka…
And when the street lamps of Prague light up one by one
And the Palace is all floodlit
I’ll take you away, on Nerudova street…
There’s this cosy teahouse, Antonia’s,
which smells divine of vanilla and cinnamon,
we’ll have jasmine tea with gingerbread
and should you like to, we’ll sample all their exotic flavors
Music will pour down on us, wordlessly…
Come, give me your hand…
Tonight I am the richest girl in the world
With your seduced, well-behaved hands in mine