C'est Pas de L'amour

It feels like the sweet and beautiful Tuscany of Da Vinci
The wise and lovely landscapes make wise men too
It looks like those images, the warm seasons, the sunny days
The silence after the storm, the soft touch of velvet

It's a bit like those songs we hear without really listening
Those things that never exist as long as the void they left
It feels like those highways, with no turns, no detours
The sweet life for sure
But anyway, it's not love

It resembles wisdom, those peace treaties we sign one day
Just at the cost of our youth, without trumpet or drum

It's full of kisses and caresses, full of sweet words from kids
Proofs of tenderness, a comforting ritual
Harmony, intelligence, and reason or serenity
A secret complicity, so many words to express all that it is

It's a bit of all that in turn
But anyway, it's not love

Without fear and without loneliness, happiness as they say
There are plenty of lives without Beethoven and without opinions
Why not lives without screams

But whether we're against it or for it
In any case, it's not love

It's not love
It's no longer love