wake up, wake up, leave cotton dresses and chickens to the world of dreams
pull on stockings, slip blistered feet into stiletto boots, button pencil skirt

you are Serbia, delegate to UNIFEM, urban-savvy
there are no trees, no holy week, and you are inside, eternally
passing resolutions on violence of a seemingly imaginary nature,
inconceivable in the conference rooms of a 45-story hotel

but pay attention young one, to the little things
pho with new friends, snowflakes in april,
paintings at the MOMA which take your breath away

this is where honest gratitude must be larger than dreams
when night comes, you may meet them again