I carry within me the fading image of a city I never known .
I wrote it in feverish lines begging for another life.
Memory wanders on the rain square ...
Perhaps to hide the rustly tears of the old king statue ?
I haven\'t it yet invented a geography where death
didn\'t know my adress to come .
Sometimes it knocks at my door with a bouquet
of wilted flowers ...
I am nothing more than a chapter of the past
in the making .
So it leaves me a \'\' Came by \" note
and goes off to stir up the neighbor\'s regrets ...
It\'s a city where even the echo of silence dreams...
Slender black birds dressed up for sunday ,
fly over the wide boulevards
and sometimes stop at the last known adress...
I\'m telling you about a city where people
politely greet the walls ...
We can\'t bring mummies back to life ,
they\'re doomed to be late forever .
I don\'t carry the burden of lost loves
that I once believed in ...
On the street of tormented souls ,no expiation .
Urban vagabond asks the hour for absolution.
I am going home where the clock made my potion.
I know how it\'s slowly poisoning me...
I am crazy about the taste of this green fairy .
Cats roam the hidden side of the night .
At the adress where I don\'t live yet ,
who\'s knocking at my door so late ?