Over the river they’re ringing the bells
as you ring in the view from the Esmeralda Hotel
the Esmeralda Hotel

The man at reception must have seen how I was feeling
he’s travelled in time, papered the ceiling
with love
a garden of Eden above our heads
above the bed:

bright pink flowers bursting through
kitsch green shoots of bamboo

As next door, the bookstore begins to awaken
and my newfound friends know there’s stock to be taken
outside – each nook has its own book to hide

And each book was cut from its own tree of life
this one won him a wife
this concealed a knife
and this propped up a chair
where a French girl cut hair with a smile
with a smile
exactly like:

bright pink flowers bursting through
kitsch green shoots of bamboo

While there in a drawer is a book I’m not reading
it starts out alright in a garden of Eden
that’s not quite as bright as the one behind your mother’s house

Where I strung out my shirts only ten days ago
and you lit up the path
and I longed for you so
to say,

‘Let’s take a walk to the lakes,
j’apporterai une belle nappe.’

And you said just that

Who would have thought there were pockets sewn into the air?
Someone must have sewn invisible seeds in the air

‘Cos I look around
I look around
and suddenly everywhere:

bright pink flowers bursting through
kitsch green shoots of bamboo

And the bells are still ringing out for Esmeralda
And this is how he’d have felt if he’d held her:

bright pink flowers bursting through
kitsch green shoots of bamboo

Over the river they’re ringing the bells
as you hold my gaze and my
everything else
in the Esmeralda Hotel