Lene Levi Went Out In The Evening, Mincing, Her Skirt Bunched Up, Through The Long, Empty Streets Of A Suburb. And She Spoke Weeping, Aching, Crazy, Strange Words, Which The Wind Tossed, So That They Popped, Like Pods. They Made Bloody Scratches On Trees, And, Shredded, Hung On Houses And In These Deaf Streets Died All Alone. Lene Levi Went Out, Until All The Roofs Made Their Crooked Mouths Grimace, And The Windows And The Shadows Made Faces They Had A Completely Drunken Good Time - Until The Houses Became Helpless And The Mute City Passed Into The Broad Fields, Which The Moon Smeared... Little Lene Took Out Of Her Pocket A Box Of Cigarettes, Weeping Took One Out And Smoked.