Sworn, we smoke one and, we clean the floor of the station but, burnt, the coppers check identities for crying out loud
I do the rounds and I laugh thinking about that old Ronsard and our teeth are tanned in ash.
I hiccup and I laugh thinking about that idiot Icarus and our burnt wings.
Prisoners, hand cuffs
are not beautiful, dream and glory.
But didn't I see those bulletproof vans arrive, flashing lights.
I do the rounds and I laugh thinking about that old Ronsard and our teeth are tanned together.
I hiccup and I laugh for a while and for good we will have escaped,
and they will never be able to find us again.
Our two sparrowhawks, in full flight of summer were plucked, what a nightmare.
Further away I used to see, falling tears, on your cheeks enlightened by the headlights.
Trapped, hang yourself doll, pass me the lighter and never again will they be able to find us.
I smoke, I finish by believing that like this black cigarette I harm you my beauty.
Our grey lungs, our black lungs, what is there to care about when tomorrow is the end of summer.
Because nicotine and hearse, little matters tomorrow we will jump, our happiness vanished.
So let's do the rounds and the Ronsards, smoke whites and smoke blacks, smile my Bonnie.
Because they will never be able to find us again.