A just song for you one,
Song a bit stressed I fear,
Three lumps of beaten words,
But some notes and my misery,
All me as jealous of you,
At the ends of these fingers,
Like do, ré, mi, fa; soh, la, ti, do.
It is a faded love song,
Like you hummed along;
Three times no'n' of us heard,
Three times no'n' like this melody,
That which remains of us two,
In the depth of my voice lingers,
Like do, ré, mi, fa; so, la ti, do.
It is a song; it is a song in memorandum
So as not to forget itself without none
To forget itself without none