It’s been 3 months since I’ve been sentenced to death
My head has been laid on the pillow
I you wanted you could cut it off
Or pretend it’s not too late
You say we’re the last survivors
That people move out too often
Can we be sovereigns
Even if Saint-Denis ain't a kingdom
The bird nest in the driers door
It will be your crown
We started thinking ourselves kings
With our loves made of sinew
When we floated across the snow in the living room
That covеred all of the floor
If my tears fall whеn winter comes in a spiral
Will you build a railing around it so you won't fall
The month of august was too dry this year
There’s 3 hectares gone up in flames
On my shoulders and my back
I keep the rest for the fire in our hearth