What remains of you, a vague image,
A scent on my sheet, a stain on my shirt,
A photo lost in a strange void
Detours in your street, a t-shirt, some wrinkles.

What remains of you, a day in February,
An invisible cold, memories to sort,
Your warmth on the sand, battles in the snow,
A guilty feeling, my soul that protects you.

I put fears in getting over it,
More than noises, kilometers,
I lose a bit of what remains of me,
In the middle of what remains of you,
I lose a bit of what remains of me
In the middle of what remains of you.

What remains of you, a look on this bridge,
A boat that goes away towards another horizon,
A poor rainy day, alone like public benches,
The sound of our boredom with bad acoustics.

What remains of you, such a long absence
That mocks me, an eternal dance,
A beginning of utopia, the chaos of your skin
In the hell of my nights, sleep in pieces.

I put fears in getting over it,
More than noises, kilometers,
I lose a bit of what remains of me,
In the middle of what remains of you,
I lose a bit of what remains of me
In the middle of what remains of you.

What remains of you,
A how, a why.

I put fears in getting over it,
More than noises, kilometers,
I lose a bit of what remains of me,
In the middle of what remains of you,
I lose a bit of what remains of me
In the middle of what remains of you.

I hate myself for clinging to this
And my heart remains a bit yours.

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