(verse 1: the teenage years)

Homemade crafts on market square
Saved from cameras and cars,
cosmetics and bars

As the windmill lost its breath
Death fell onto her hair
And broke her stare

But the man detests her ways
Who will alter her rooms?
And the woman obeys.
Who has governed this land,
Has woven by hand,
Tells you that you can't ?

Mennonite Lady, be sure
Pack up your bags and close the door
Tie loose from the pleasures so few
To walk on high heeled shoes

(verse 2: move to city)

Techno gods on swollen floors
Workers rushing through lights
through rotating doors

Crossing cables overhead
Death fell onto her hair
...my kingdom come (?)

But a man may take her home
Who will plow through the past?
And the woman okays.
Who has thickened the air,
Has coloured your hair,
Tells you it’s not fair ?

Mennonite Lady, be sure
Pack up your bags and close the door
Tie loose from the pleasures so new
To walk where you once grew

(outro: back to roots)

Mennonite Lady, beware
Gear up for a world that doesn’t care...

Mennonite Lady, be sure
Pack up your bags and close the door
Tie loose from the pleasures you knew
To walk on high heeled shoes