Texte:
Ayers
| It
begins with a blessing It ends with a kiss Making life easy by making it worse |
People
are watching people who stare waiting for something That's already there |
My
head is a nightclub with glasses of wine The customers dancing or just making time |
| My
mask is my master The trumpeter weeps But his voice is too weak as he speaks through his sleep |
Tomorrow
I'll find it the trumpeter screams and remembers he's hungry and drowns in his dreams |
While
David is cursing the customers scream Now everyone's shouting: Get out of my dream ! |
| Why, why, why are we sleeping ? | Why, why, why are we sleeping ? |