Translation of Des Bouts De Moi from French to English
I left
In my rearview mirror
Far
In the middle of a setting
Images
Impressions and colors
And flashes and screams that intertwine
And stick to my body
White
The silence before you
Black
The scene before the blows
Long (long)
The wait to see you
And our arms, our looks at the moment of saying goodnight (goodnight)
I left pieces of me in the hollow of each place
A bit of flesh at each imprint of my steps
Faces and voices that never leave me
As many blows to the heart that kill each time
A city that the night makes imaginary
A road that we take as we take a breath
And the butterflies return to burn their wings
To touch the light
To annoy the winter
For a bit of ephemeral
The hotel
The same room, yesterday
Gestures
Countdown, schedule
Tests (tests, tests)
Reassuring, daily
Things also hold their breath
And then the moment comes
Burn
The lights and your looks
Fly
Your voices in our guitars
Beautiful
The hands of the musicians
And your eyes that will never be extinguished by artificial sleep (oh)
I left pieces of me in the hollow of each place
A bit of flesh at each imprint of my steps
Faces and voices that never leave me
As many blows to the heart that kill each time
A city that the night makes imaginary
A road that we take as we take a breath
And the butterflies return to burn their wings
To touch the light
To annoy the winter
For a bit of ephemeral
I left pieces of me in the hollow of each place
A bit of flesh at each imprint of my steps
Faces and voices that never leave me
As many blows to the heart that kill each time
A morning to be surprised by our immodesty
Signature alibis, but it's already time
And the butterflies return to burn their wings
To touch the light
To annoy the winter
So that everything accelerates
I left pieces of me in the hollow of each place
A bit of flesh at each imprint of my steps
Faces and voices that never leave me
As many blows to the heart that kill each time
A city that the night makes imaginary
A road that we take as we take a breath
And the butterflies return to burn their wings
To touch the light
To annoy the winter
For a bit of ephemeral
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