Emilie Simon - En cendres
Tekst :
Je ne suis qu une forme aux contours incertains
Avec un regard morne un tantinet hautain
J avance à l aveuglette et je suis mal luné
Une pièce sans fenêtre avec vue sur mes pieds
À force de malentendus je suis mal-entendant
Et ces déjà-vus me rendent malveillant
Je ne fume plus mais je pars en cendres
Combien de temps me faudra-t-il encore t attendre
Je l entends bien souvent le soir murmurer
Prendre á tèmoin le ciment des murs abîmés
Il leur promet du beau mais il se sent bien laid
En face de sa photo sur la table de chevet
À force de malentendus je suis mal-entendant
Et ces déjà-vus me rendent malveillant
Je ne fume plus mais je pars en cendres
Combien de temps me faudra-t-il encore t attendre
Je ne fume plus mais je pars en cendres
Inne utwory
Footprints in the snow Fleur de saison Dame de lotus Secret All is white Song of the storm Solene Never fall in love Il pleut Le vieil amant I wanna be your dog The frozen world Alicia To the dancers in the rain Chanson de toile Come as you are Sweet blossom Losowe utwory
Welcome to where time stands still
no one leaves and no one will
Moon is full, never seems to change
just labeled mentally deranged
Dream the same thing every night
I see our freedom in my sight
No locked doors, No windows barred
No things to make my brain seem scarred
Sleep my friend and you will...
To hesitate, to reel and stutter in a free fall to eat your grapes
and slow the runner you just need calm
Don t let me down I m already down
like a rubber band pulled between two hands in a slow defiance
of when it...
For you I would tattoo me with lines crossing into a hand and a heart that would never bleed
With the twilight and the horse drawn on my arm
Standing for an addiction pray we go unharmed
Here is my love and anger you see now...
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Its a cultural shift its the North Atlantic Drift
Americana and a rule Britannia
And the moon yes we own that to
And where the Euphrates meets the other rivers
Is now the home of the devil...
Ah, for the glens are lyin bare,
And the wee bit farm deserted,
And the woods of Germany,
Grows in rows o er the broken hearted.
Black is the wood on the roofance was braw
But blacker still is your heart, Victoria,