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My eyes go to the painting
Something has been illuminated
And inside the figures dance
They stare at me and they enlarge
My body weighs less
I feel that I rise
Warhol's pistols without ammunition
The situation is clouded in my brain.
Oh!
(Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh)
Oh!
Surrounded by looks
Something blurred
And I admit the colors of its interior
My figure suffers a transformation
Oh!
(Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh)
Oh!
And those white eyes
I turn to his side
They force me to feel like this
They are behind you...
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