D’un lourd et épais filet noir, recouvrant ce qui l’est déjà, croyant rejeter au loin les évidences, un apparat ne cache rien, il révèle simplement. Un col blanc et immaculé, cintrant un cou délicat, miasmes rugueux et volatiles, trut un corps semble se mouvoir D’un rythme coulé et séduisant. Triste temps, triste époque. Belle vie, beaux hommes en vogue. Triste temps, triste époque. Belle vie, belles dames en vogue. Deux assemblages de chair tentent de se découvrir, ils ne trouveront rien d’autre qu’un applat noir et brillant, enlacement bref d’un fond de teint trop épais, rougissant dans une étreinte éthylique.

(With an heavy and thick black net, covering what is already there, thinking of strongly rejecting the evidences, a pomp does not hide anything, it simply reveals. A white and pristine collar, around a delicate neck, rough and volatile miasmas, a whole body seems to move, in a smooth and seducing rhythm. Sad time, sad period beautiful life, beautiful men in fashion. Sad time, sad period beautiful life, beautiful ladies in fashion. Two assemblies of flesh attempt to discover each other, they will only find a black and shiny applat. Brief embrace from a fondation too thick blushing in a drunken embrace.)


Lyrics submitted by Noct

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