The end of the day in this city
Is strange
Passers pass in silence
In the mists of December
An icy wind blows and dominates
Impé ©rial
It seems like there are angels
On the hill of roses
But the nights are too violent
They arrive like an attractive error,
A blinding error
There are little fairies
In the palm of my hand
And who are having tea
In a garden
There are little fairies ©es
In the palm of my hand
And who take tea
At the bottom of my garden
I only have my eyes
To look at them
Only two hands to touch them
But only one mouth to kiss them
But who thinks that that bothers them
Only angels in all innocence
. ..walk on blooming roses
There are little fairies
In the palm of my hand
And who are having tea
In a garden
There are little fairies
In the palm of my hand
And who take tea
At the bottom of my garden
I hate the months of dawn ©cember
She hates all these Sundays
But the nights are too violent
They happen like mistakes
There are little fairies
In the hollow of my hand
And who are having tea
In a garden
There are little fairies
In the palm of my hand
And who are having tea
br/>At the bottom of my garden
I hate the months of December
She hates all these Sundays
But the nights are too violent
A night on the hill roses...
Ooh! Ooh!

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS