When the day will have risen
When the sheets will have been washed
When the birds have flown away
From the streets where we loved each other
There will be nothing left of us

When our islands will be drowned
When our wings will be crushed
When the key will be rusted
Of the treasure they have searched
There will be nothing left of us

Leave me, a bit of you
A part, of your gaze
A spark, of your voice
Leave me, a bit of you

When our feasts are thrown away
In the trash of everyday
When my destiny is swept away
In the dust of your mornings
What will be left of us?

When there will only be distance
Four walls and an absence
When the sky will be too low
When there will be no more of you
What will be left of me?

Leave me, a bit of you
A wrinkle, before the void
A spark, of your voice
Leave me, a bit of you

Like crazy laughter at the pound
Like sighs at the soup pot
What will be left of yesterday?
When the end of our forevers
Will be nothing but endless days
What will be left tomorrow?

Leave me, a bit of you
A part, of your gaze
A spark, of your voice
Leave me, a bit of you

Leave me, a bit of you
A part, of your life
A tear, of your charm
Leave me, a bit of you

Leave me, a bit of you
A wrinkle, before the void
A piece of your features
Leave me, a bit of you

Leave me, a bit of you
A hint, of your forehead
One percent, of your blood
Leave me, a bit of you

A bit of you

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