La Rupture - Yann Tiersen, Claire Pichet

Windows, doors, walls and carpets, chairs, tables and flowers, bread, wine

Butter and jam, fries, meat, beans and all spices

I’ve lost the taste of these things for two weeks now

I’m just waiting for a cup of dirty snow

Airports, railroad stations, highways, streets and foggy lines

Traffic, lights, cars and planes, boats, bicycles and walkers

Now I’m wondering, blind, in the city

I’m surrounded by towers, made of dirty snow

Faces, ears and bellies, backsides, legs, fingers and feet

Sweat, tears, dripping bodies, parties, someone is fucked up

Now I’m quiet in this snow, snowy country

I’m hanging on until I am old, just older than now