At this time, i know this is already to late
she would probably have taken the first coach
and on the road, alongside the Loire
she sees landscapes, is telling herself stories
She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me,
Her blond hairs tightened in a badly made bun
she thinks of God knows what, sun disappearing
and the night is about to come, the tired driver
is looking for an old restaurant, where she will want to eat
She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me,
And i am going to finish this bottle of wine
looking at the table, twisting my hands
and i will spend the night in the garden
counting stars, i'll be better tomorrow
She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me,
Tomorrow morning, of course, she willl arrive at Paris,
seeing again the Streets, her parents, her friends
I guess that in only three weeks she will fall in love
and before her mirror, she is already happy
She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me,
Somewhere there are fields of wheat to ted
Tractor is broken, what a to do
We should think about taking care of this horse
it's the end of summer, she is forgetting me, and that hurts
She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me, She is forgetting me,
She is forgetting me