Dansent les lames,

Tombent les têtes,

Un jour peut-être,

Tomberont les âmes..

Trop de mystères,

Trop de misère,

Les piranhas mangent crus

Tellement de livres, et de carnets,

Un jour fini, deviendra riche,

Prétention modérée,

Obsession absolue.

Always the same deal,

One thing changes,

Everything changes..

What happens the day of the comet ?

The wood holds,

We can keep our secret.

It always was a pleasure to see you..

And it will always be,

Since decades fall into the summer,

And the matches are gone right again.

We can raise a fire,

With enough oil,

Great recoil,

And enough desire.


Down the streets, what happens..?

Everything is blurry from the sky,

Nothing reaches an absolute without dedication.


garçon interstellaire

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