Текст: Bjork. Desired Constellation.

It's tricky when you feel
That someone has done something
On your behalf

It's slippery when
Your sense of justice
Murmurs underneath

And it's asking
How am i going to make it right?
How am i going to make it right?

With a palmful of stars
I throw them like dice
Repeatedly
Repeatedly
On the table

I throw them on the table
Until the desired constellation appears

How am i going to make it right?
How am i going to make it right?
How am i going to make it right?
How am i going to make it right?

And you're asking you
How am i going to make it right?
How am i going to make it right?
(icelandic / gibberish[?] Stuff )

Repeatedly
Repeatedly
You're asking yourself
Repeatedly