Walking down Mirabeau street
Singing and taping a beat

I saw a man lying there
Homeless without a care.

Shabby clothes no friends or any kin
Hair floating in the Rotonde fountain

What about a rendez-vous
I would love to see you.

He, then, got up and ran away
Where to meet, he never did say.

All alone in the city

Night lit up by constellations
Hoping for those lost sensations

And my voice and all its echoesShimmering like water flows.