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I burn a cigarette
I am matchwood
Which burns and I presume
That all paths end
As much for prince as for vermin
Life is like this
But everything is stupid
How everything is vain and useless
When exhausted, tired
The body is nothing more than another projectile
Propelled since morning
Until evening by bus, by train
I know that a heart can stop for less
Imperfect
The world is imperfect
Imperfect
The world is imperfect
The wind is so tender at noon
It's September in Paris
I think of you, it feels good
You in your city and me trans-Siberian
Who loves you and who adores you
And who hates himself for loving so much
Love is as I feared
Imperfect
Love is imperfect
Imperfect
Love is imperfect
br/>Imperfect
The world is imperfect
Imperfect
Love is imperfect
Imperfect
The world is imperfect, imperfect
Love is imperfect , imperfect
The world is imperfect, imperfect
Imperfect, imperfect
Love is imperfect