When you commissioned your cage Indoor living became all the rage. Landscapers, hustlers, and gents Offered to pay at least half your rent. Pale pink and punished in style Tuning in each time your satelite smiles. Well your lips don't move, But my ears are burning. And my blush is proof, That from your window you sing Some unbelievable things A queen with several kings And I: a bird without wings. Now lying flat on your back, Counting cashmere sweaters, counting cracks. And all those slippery gents Have found their way into your air conditioning vents. Your signal fizzles and fades Still bouncing off the stars but silent in space. And your lips don't move, But my ears are burning. And my blush is proof, That from your window you sing Some unbelievable things A queen with several kings And I: a bird without wings. And I'm starting to believe. And I'm starting to believe. And I'm starting to believe. And from your window you sing Some unbelievable things A queen with several kings And I: a bird without wings. Let me pin these on you.