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il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
dans sa tente gardée
chantez-encore à la chanson vous chanté
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
les chansons antiques
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
ne restez pas plus
nous nous étendons
s'il
j'ai dit, j'ai fermé mon coeur
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
voici ne tomber aucune lumière

 



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