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She puts old bread on her balcony
To attract sparrows, pigeons
She lives her life vicariously
In front of her television set
Getting up without waking up, with the sun
Without noise, without anxiety, the day goes by
Ironing, dust, there's always something to do  to make
Solo meals, in landmarks
The house so neat, that it is suspicious
Like all these places, where we don't live not
The beings gave in, lost the fight
Things won, it's their territory
Time that breaks us, don't does not change it
The living fade, but the shadows do not
Everything goes, everything works, without purpose, without why
From winter to autumn, neither fever, nor cold
She puts old bread on her balcony
To attract sparrows, pigeons
She lives her life vicariously
In front of her TV set vision
She learns in the press of a scandal
The lives of others which spread out
But ultimately, from less worse to banal
She will end up finding This is normal
She puts old bread on her balcony
To attract sparrows, pigeons
Creams and baths, which make the skin soft
But it's been a long time since no one touched her
Months, years, without anyone to love
And day after day, the forgetting of love
Her dreams and desires, so wise and possible
Without cry, without delirium, without unacceptable
Out of ten or twenty pages, of banal photos
Review without mystery, of years without light
She puts old bread on her balcony