Good morning, said the prince, what you're wearing
Why're you drinking and not talking?
Why all the people they pass you by
They're not asking about your story?
I guess they all have their little answer
They're all happy for their knowledge
And after five stupid normal minutes
They continue on their journey
It seems to me
It's just an exercise
Of monotony
Why can't we just play the game
It seems to me
I have so much to do
Five hundred million six hundred and twenty two stars to count
And not even one makes me rich
Makes me rich
What d'you mean the stars?
What can I do with them?
I don't own them, I'm not a king
I'm just a prince is this all necessary?
Listen to me:
I count them and recount them and it's difficult but I'm a man
Who is naturally interested in those things
Whatever does that mean?
That means that I write the number of my stars on a piece of paper
Then I put this paper in a drawer and lock it with a key
Is that all?
It is rather poetic but it's cleaver
And with no consequences for anybody but me
No consequences for anybody but me
No no consequences for anybody but
No cons cons cons equences for anybo
No anybody but me no no anybody then
I had ideas that were very different
From those of the grown up persons
The stars will always be there
They will shine but they don't disappear
It seems to me
It's just an exersice
Of monotony
Why can't we just play the game
It seems to me
I have so much to do
Five hundred million six hundred and twenty two stars to count
And not even one makes me rich
Makes me rich
Makes me rich
Makes me rich...