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les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
et mon nom est véridique
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts

 



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