So yes the streets are full of drunken presidents
And o God the pope is nude on the web
There's a crack in the wall
The salamanders start to spread
So what ‘you wanna do
Play strip poker with the dead ?
And your telephone book keeps on ringing
And the toilet boil is sinking
There's a strange conspiracy
Emerging from it all
There's a lily pad sucking you into the wall
You've got to fly
Fly the captain's ghost
Your tuxedo is bleeding
Your neighbours are laughing
And your car got stolen by 4 somnambules
The chandelier farts
And the sofa is whispering
There is spécial little bugs under your pull
And even your dog is laughing at you
I can see my friend why you are so blue
Prozac is too low, the rope is to high
Gotta find a way to reach the sky
You've gotta fly...
(Stratus, cirrostratus, cumulus, stratocumulus)
Wake up, wake yourself up
Tu dors dans ta soupe
Tes rêves frémissent au plancher
Comme des poupées
À la tête coupée
Tu vas tout louper
You gotta be in the race
For your place in the clouds
Look, there's a flashlight on the couch
Take it
Find your way out
Find your way out of this mess
Move
Your under stress, bouge
Bouge tes fesses!
You've got to fly
Tumeur, crachat, venin
Tu souffres
Et tu ne fais rien
(Fly the captain's ghost)
Paroles: Stéfan Boucher
Musique: S.Boucher, G.Kaye
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