Your moles on your back
I counted them one by one
Like the dots in those silly games
That you connect to make a drawing

And for your leopard skin
I would have walked on my hands
What remains of our grand evenings
When the morning comes?

Hm
Hm
Hm

Remember how we laughed
We were drunk every other day
You danced, I staggered
And we took it all in, even with our eyes

But when it's over, it's too much drinking
When it's giving back all that excess
What remains of our grand evenings
When the morning comes?

Hm
Hm
Hm

And all night on that square
Kissing in the heart of the crowd
Your lock of hair teased by the breeze
Like a little wave rolling

Was it the wind of history
The promise of beautiful tomorrows
What remains of our grand evenings
When the morning comes?

Hm
Hm

Your moles on your back
I barely remember them
It's like flowers, like photos
It's like old train schedules

It's like putting things away in a drawer
It fades, it yellows, it discolors
What remains of our grand evenings
When the morning comes?

Hm
Hm

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