It seemed to me I’ve seen her before
The cemetery looked different with her, like a french paysage
All the autumnal scents were broken
Wooden fences tracks lost between the graves

I was again on my own
The alcohol spoke to me like it had never done
And the flowers were thrown
Like spagetti on an italian dish

I thought to myself I needed something
Grasping a bit of her warmness, maybe
But the yell of the church bell had started
It was too late, for me or anyone else