Vacances
L'Impératrice
Vacation
No clouds
On the horizon
Under the moon the sand sleeps
Where meteors get lost
No mirages
Without escape
A few more hours outside
And I fly away in semaphore
On this vacation flight I glide
From Paris to Mexico
Tropical destination
The sun of Rio
Last turn
But be careful
Gravity ignores us
When the watchtowers abandon us
In the wake
Of this plane
I see the colorless foam
Of my vacation in Salvador
But in this airplane
Everything takes off a little too soon
I delirium under the stars
I dream a little melodramatic
But in this airplane
Everything takes off a little too soon
I smell the odor of methane
Invading my brain
No more clouds
No more horizons
Under the moon my heart falls asleep
In the light of meteors
End of the mirage
In a shiver
A few more hours on board
No vacations are not death
