You asked me yesterday
My opinion on happiness
It seems like nothing, here you are worried
Peace would therefore scare you
I this love stirs it up
The twigs fly
All you see is fire
It’s his secret life
Yet, yet, yet
Words are, words do, words say
Words flow, words roll on a thread
I leave these microbes, these missiles
To the chatterboxes, to the poets if possible
Oh, how I love you when you explain yourself
It's funny but
I put away the fashions and the recipes
Burned the box, my heart
I am left with this little sacrifice
A dizziness, a warmth
I stir up this love
br/>The twigs are flying
All you see is fire
It's his secret life
Yet, yet, yet
You know, you asked me yesterday
My vision of happiness
Well, every day it is clearer
It will no longer scare us
I stir up this love
The twigs are flying
All you see is fire
It’s his secret life
Yet, yet, yet