He lives very well without her
The town hasn't changed
In the morning, he goes downstairs
As you feed
A small child
His stomach remembers
Then he opens a newspaper
Without really intending it
He doesn't mind this all
A piece of metal
Is stuck in his throat
But he seems to be alive
Maybe he was dreaming
Like in a dream, when you think you can find some gold
In the morning, waking up
There's a bit of melted sun
In the morning
He lives very well that way
Like in a snowflake
Whatever the flask
As long as he gets the euphoria
So he straightens up
Maybe he was dreaming
Like in a dream, when you think you can find some gold
In the morning, the tenderness
It's a body in the sheets,
Sleeping in the morning
He knows that she will come back
The room hasn't been done
Like when she was there
Burn marks of cigarette
On the piece of wooden furniture
Maybe he was dreaming
Like when you think that everything can happen
In the morning, waking up
There's a bit of melted sun
In the morning