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Poor Nicolas was going to school
When he had finished drinking his bowl
Of chocolate, poor Nicolas
Walking through Avenue Casanova
With his satchel and his silk scarf
Walked in a low voice, poor Nicolas.
It's not my fault
If it's like that.
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He was still lost in his dreams
And the other students
Thought he came from the land of fools
Velvet words flowed from his lips
In a torrent of blurred love.
He wanted to build a world without soldiers
And decorate all the deserts with lilacs
And vermilion , poor Nicolas.
He thought that we had to come to an agreement
So that one morning the sun would rise in the north
Of its wonders, poor Nicolas.
He didn't understand why
People were pointing fingers at him
It's not my fault
If it's like that.
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