In this world of contradictions 
We go on by intuition, 
We're apparently persistentÂ… 

Without hopes, without base, without pleasure, 
Without names we don't know what is our purpose. 

Everywhere we look there's pose 
Beautiful peel and rotten core 
Everything is imperfectly aesthetic.

We don't design a new design 
We just keep it like this.

Without hopes, without base, without pleasure,
without names We don't know what is our purpose.

We don't know, we keep it like this. 
Impulsively, we follow the traces of culture, 
We blindly use the dictates of fashion, 
We like to keep it like this.