I'm sort of awaiting the end of the world.
We're young, we hurt each other, we do our best.
It seems there's three of us when we are together alone.
The vulture that circles over me, circles over me
extinguishes your towers
Give me the weapon to kill the shadow in your eyes.
My sorrow is a tree. Contrary to me, it will die old.
Sorry, love me some more, I'm a bad boy.
Sorry, love me some more, hanging from the ceiling.
Sorry, love me some more, I'm a bad boy.
Sorry, love me some more, hanging from the ceiling.
Does not make much sense to me, but the French could hardly mean anything else.