Why make last lazy crimes fake what a life finds? Take rotten times in bed cut another line coz it's all for you It's all for you Sick into dreams again; Two doors in a darkened hall Light shot from underneath No sound now to be heard Make a choice through a sequence Why save joy for sweet hot sugar time? Days scream from the middle, begging to be filled It's all to you A mirrored camera One object undefined She walks in solitude And dissolves into the film Live from the key of dreams! Broadcast from a hidden screen! Not recalled, or so we think... So what is left to do, Magritte?