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THE DARKEST STREET

Somebody across the river was calling for you, you see...

A woman in white or the devil, in the darkest street of the city

While you walk away on the fresh air, kid you can see her in the chimneys

On the smoke she became a dancer from an haunted factory

There's lights around the corner climbing up to the moon by the trees

They carry on the smile of your mother...enlighting the whole area

You came here to know about her, in the darkest street of the city

But no trace in here, just the blur...Is she a ghost ? Perhaps...maybe...

 

Come on kidow ?!

Do you believe that your balloons will reach the top of the roof ...

...And scare the monsters ?

And for now you bark as a cur, asking yourself : "who am I really ?

A son ? A soul ? Just a seeker... in the darkest street of the city ?"

City makes yourself feel like a looser, shuttin' all the doors and all the entries

Kid, on you she will cast a slur, before she gives you access to all the keys

Soon or late you will remember the smell, the walls, the golden-taxis

Asking yourself "Am I the son of her ? Of the darkest street ? Of the city ?"

And several years later, you will told to another kiddy :

"You know, places have a power and make yourself become who you're gonna be..."

 

 

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Central Express - Punk Rock Français - Paris