Оригинален текст
In the evening rush she takes her seat by the window, and when she lights up nobody speaks - they adjust their clothes. She sits on the train from 5.15 to 5.50; It's always the same: "The way," she says, "they look at me," from Saturday to Saturday.
Contact unclean, lock me up in quarantine.
Bathed in the blue wash of a TV screen, surfing served-up dreams, to the happy glow of the burger bar, watching the passing cars, from Saturday to Saturday.
CHORUS
Contact unclean, lock me up in quarantine. Contact, I'm unclean, lock me up in quarantine.
Quarantine, quarantine, all our lives we've been in quarantine.
Quarantine, quarantine, all our lives we've been in quarantine.
Quarantine, quarantine, all our lives we've been in quarantine.
Quarantine, quarantine, all our lives we've been in quarantine.