Nothing is as before,
new sights, new frontiers,
delimiting my gestures, my habits.
Some other fires will light my verses,
other ghosts my loneliness,
other happiness my parties,
other doubts my certainties.
Nothing is as before.
I'll have to get used to
this cold loneliness
like an old man in his very last days to his illness.
And call you or wait for you at a café,
and suffer another beginning,
and go back to the places where you have abandoned me,
and be killed
where I loved you.
I've only got left
the empty sorrow
of the returning traveler.
I'm so lost,
I'm the killer
of so many Springs.
Nothing is as before.
Nothing is as before,
I will travel the sidewalks
looking for the light that reminds me of you.
Who will come with me to the Alphaville 1 theaters?
Who will make scars of my wounds?
Who will reveal my lies?
Who will help me escape?
Because Nothing is as before.
I've only got left
the empty sorrow
of the returning traveler.
I'm so lost,
I'm the killer
of so many Springs.
Nothing is as before.
Nothing is as before.
