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j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
je suis fevered
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
les poèts le disent
le plus triste de l'année
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé

 



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