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.