Their Notions

The blown out Belgian sky

Is weeping on you and I

We're soaked down to the tit

We'll make our bed in it

Jerusalem at dawn

Your pink hair turns them on

They holler from windows

But I'm just proud to know

[Hook]

That we spit on their notions

That our love parts the oceans

That our love fuels their motion

Yeah, we spit on their notions

At Prague in sausage stalls

But still we hit the mall

In search of a Starbucks

Americans like us

[Hook] x2