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My father
I call you
Even if I don't come
Not from heaven
I hope
All the same
That you feel my wings fluttering
A little bit
All these little things
That bother us
Without us understanding
Our metamorphoses
We keep them
For ourselves
You know everyone changes
And everyone disturbs
We are sometimes strange
A mystery for others
And for ourselves
Everyone takes revenge
For what we harvest
The hay that we make
When we change
My mother who calls me
I pick you up when you wake up
The child all the same
Flies with his own wings
All these little things
That bother us
Without us understanding
Our men ©tamorphoses
We keep them to ourselves
For ourselves
You know everyone changes
And everyone bothers
We are sometimes Strange
A mystery for others
And for oneself
Everyone takes revenge
For what we gain
The hay they make for us
When we change