La petite mort [English translation]

The time of a breathless

By a late summer evening

The angles left before

And their faces stained of white

I believe that it's too late

For telling you the i hurt

In my dying heart

And my memories stained of white

If you lose me, I know that would be thine

And in the hollows of his arms, death will rock us

Cause if you lose me

It's only to stay thine

And in the hollows of his arms, death will rock us

The rain pours dow my temples

Lightning sings of your decedents

Nestled against my life

Your laughter echoes and then it fled

I believe that it's too late

For telling you that, that hurts

My heart isn't like before

Cause it fell asleep ever so gently