Trees swaying in the wind
Falling leaves float to the ground
The air is alive

Why do we all hide
From that which is truly us
We are all special

Earth and water dance
As if lovers at the ball
Nature is romance

Our dreams are stories
Each with its own morale
Stories never die

In the twilight of
Defeat, there can be vic'try
Learn from your mistakes

Can you see my soul?
If you look deep inside me
You will know the truth

We will remember
The things which we love the most
Don't forget yourself

Le petit morte, means
The little death: Orgasm
I like cigarettes