Dear Mr. Okada, I am writing this letter
For I find your life echoes mine in the strangest way,
I just had to write you.
The man who created you,
Oh, what a beautiful mind!
What a lovely head to get inside,
Peek around, sit astride.

Ooh, and no one invite me.
Ooh, and no one invite me, me, me.

Do you drink the water or the wine?
Do you drink the water or the wine?

Oh, Mr. Okada, I have stepped into your fiction,
Which is fantasy and reality to me. Don't you see?
Oh, I am ready, set the teeth to the thigh, one ear to the soil
With my bridle held way up high.

Ooh, and no one invite me.
Ooh, and no one invite me, me, me, me.

Do you drink the water or the wine?
Do you drink the water or the wine?

I catch the train, sit next to you.
As we chit-chat, the coast falls away.
And a lullaby of steam and time,
It throws me into a fitful sleep.
The branches point, they are like pistols,
They urge along our playful minds,
And on into the deep dark forest
We will whinny and we will whine.
And with sugared feet we flee the captors,
We precede. We run real deep,
And I come to as the train approaches
And then you are gone and I'm all alone again...

Do you drink the water or the wine?
Do you drink the water or the wine?

Dear Mr. Okada...
No one invited me, me...

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