Orly

They are more than two thousand, and I only see them two
The rain has bonded them, it seems, to each other
They are more than two thousand, and I only see them two
And I know they are talking, He must be saying: I love you
She must be saying: I love you

I believe they are not promising anything to each other
These two are too thin to be dishonest
They are more than two thousand, and I only see them two
And suddenly they cry, They cry heavily

Surrounded by sweaty fat people
And hope eaters who point at them
But these two torn apart, magnificent in sorrow
Leave it to the dogs to judge them
Life doesn't give gifts!

And damn it's sad
Orly on Sunday, with or without Bécaud!
And now they cry, I mean both of them
Just now it was him when I said he
Embedded as they are, they hear nothing but each other's sobs

And then, infinitely, like two bodies praying
Infinitely slowly these two bodies separate
And by separating these two bodies tear apart
And I swear they scream, and then they come back together
Become one again, become the fire

And then tearing apart, holding each other by the eyes
And then stepping back, like the sea receding
They consummate the farewell, they mumble a few words
Wave a vague hand, and suddenly they flee
Flee without looking back, and then he disappears devoured by the stairs

Life doesn't give gifts!
And damn it's sad
Orly on Sunday, with or without Bécaud!
And then he disappears, devoured by the stairs and she
She stays there, heart in a cross, mouth open, without a cry, without a word
She knows her death, she just crossed it

Now she turns around and turns around again
Her arms reach the ground, there, she is a thousand years old
The door is closed, she is without light
She turns on herself and already knows she will always turn
She lost men but now she loses love

Love told her, here is the useless
She will live on projects that will only wait
Here she is fragile before being for sale
I am here I follow her
I dare nothing for her, let the crowd nibble on her like any fruit