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Where is my sister, where is she hiding,
listen, my dear, it's not hide-and-seek,
behind the walls banana soldiers are marching,
this war has started so long time ago,

So
you better stop peeking
and you better stop peeling
your banana, your silence and life.
and come with me, you better come with me
where the yellow is as glaring as (it) nowhere can be.

My sister, we will dance 'till the three and the sunlight,
we will dance with the soldiers 'till the night will be over,
and the streets will be ours and hours won't be counted,
neither marked, nor mentioned in a table of
wentawaythings.

Oh, listen, my dear, it's not hide-and-seek,
our dresses will be curtains for windows are sealed
for windows in which the soldiers were staring
but couldn't get in, no, they couldn't get in.

Our hands will be touching the sky up above
the roofs, and the chimneysweep faces, so black,
Our hands will be playing on strings of the thoughts
which people had lost before darkness.

Oh,
where is my sister, where is she hiding
listen, my dear, we need to go now,
the yellow air is getting brighter and lighter,
Still banana soldiers keep waiting for us.
But how long..