While a man thinks, a man lives
Bury me softly with this song
Telling my whole life with this song
I live in a cemetery
Not to imitate but to irritate
Someday I´ll back to Paris
To the streets full of warm light
To my heart full of pain
To the heads filled up with hate
To the neverending why
To the tombstones
To the agony and the ecstasy in eight parts
Under the arch of the rib dancer
To the gargoyles of Notre Dame
Peut être...quelque chose...why not?
The after...after what?
What can I expect?
Is there anybody out there?
In 1793 Cardinal Richieleu´s corpse was taken out from his tomb and his head separated from his body
Ain´t it fun when you know that you´re gonna die young
Maybe someday it all will have a sense to me
While my head lies on a pillow full of hate and conformity, breathless, a stained glass, walking slow, doucement...