She dries flowers in the middle of The waves
It's not sure for whom Is it mal d' amour?
She doesn't like to die but it gives her taste of paradise
She demands it now
To get it now

She enjoys sparkles at night
Her sun is gray and her moon is brown
She is a recluse groping in her hearth
She is not sure what she's going to find

Is your joy among angels?

She dries flowers in the middle of The waves
It's not sure for whom Is it mal d' amour?
She doesn't like to die but it gives her taste of paradise
She demands it now
To get it now

Her peace and quiet scream very loud
The wind has come to her heart
She is sick of a dialogue in one
She's wondering: "Am I mad?"
Dreams of being a rose to adore are sure not for her
Sometimes you need so little to revive the illusive belief
Someday will all fade away and she hopes, and she hopes
Someday will all fade away and she waits, and she waits

"I don't want do die"

Dreams of being a rose to adore are sure not for her
Sometimes you need so little to revive the illusive belief