Gilles Memory

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Rodolphe Coster and Band

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Hung behind the trees
Like wet prunes in dog screams
We were few boys,
Maybe four
Boosted in muddy carpets stones and branches
Moods, « vesperal » flavour of south
The country is not
The country is
Small, my fear
There,
In the maybe parents carreer
He was born near sweets and thoughts
Nude
Utopians
Free friends and social coats
Hung behind the trees
There was the infinite breath
The witches in an orange
The mystery of nothing
That's the countryside in the night of the south
As we were four or five sleeping in the forest
The fear is bestial
The fear is ours when
like the boys lost we were
The nature grinded
Her best fuel to pull us where we had to
The buddie's boys their crown their key
They will have to escape night
On the lamps, of the trees, some cats throw their red eyes
On the time there is some fear to loose our love
The keys, the strings, some idols and thoughts
Some utopy and fantasy
And after
It is never lost,
Because it's done not to be lost
The girls we were meeting girls the girls i was
It is never lost
Because it's done not to be lost
The girls we were, the boys,
Hey man
This dude was so experienced in cooking
All the men that are able to cook fascinates me
All the men that were able to cook fascinates me
To his wife in Japan
To his daughter in Japan
To my brother
For his wife in Japan
For his daughter in Japan

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