The little clock stopped ticking now 
Whiz swallowed in the stomach room
The sound to tear the night
Comes from the man upstairs
His bloated belching figure stomps
He may crash trough the ceiling soon
The windows sees trees cry from cold
And claw the moon

But we know don't we
And we'll dream won't we
Of montague terrace...in blue

The girl across the hall makes love
Her thoughts lay cold as shattered stone
Her thighs are full of tales to tell
Of all the nights she's known
Your eyes ignite like cold blue fires
The sense of secrets everywhere
A fist filled with illusions clutches all our cares

But we know don't we
And we'll dream won't we
Of montague terrace...in blue
Oh in blue