I live in a house without a roof or balcony without bees are not even on the jam jars are not even birds not even nature is not even a house I left, passing a few words on the wall of corridor leading down to parking a car for the great words not even insults if someone hears them answer me answer me my heart is afraid of being immured be your ice tower condemns the sound of trucks passing him who dreamed of star fields of daffodils to hang necklaces on the shoulders of girls but in the morning takes you to your current habits and your evening forest of antennas and connected to the solitude and the moon shines full as the wind is blowing south you you do not hear and I see your dog going great in the eyes of ice borne on cushions that embrace to master effloresces hand must pass the word to effloresces hand My heart is afraid to too little space condemns the sound of passing trucks and rain of daffodils to shelter the shoulders of girls but the last of the fairies seek his wand My friend, the stream is sleeping in a plastic bottle seasons stopped to feet of synthetic trees There was more than me and I live in my house without a roof or balcony without bees are not even on the jam jars
Francis Cabrel ft. Google Translate.
