We are the queens of the hills.
We are lonely inhabitants.
There’re no limits to this world.
Is your mind running?
Are you only fooling around?
There’re no limits to this world.
I wrote a song about song about you.
Let me sing it to you:
“I heard it first on the radio:
‘Why do you treat me so hard?
I'm all right, I feel alright
I'm all right, but what I can't see
Are these hands touching your face’
I listened to dignity fade
As the lyrics stripped it down:
‘This love is not a tombstone
This love is not a way home
This love throws like tornados 
Still half the world sleeps alone’”