Novelists FR
À travers le miroir
She imprisoned my soul in a bottle
Like a firefly
And threw it again to the fire

She drew me that life on a vacant canvas
But she's gone with its colors
We're playing a duet
But the melody of melancholy seems to be the only thing we share

Tell me the secrets of her fantasy
How could I believe in this heaven that she promises?

She's calling my name in my dreams
I can't hide
Oh she's in the walls, and she never falls asleep
I feel her presence
In these streets, in my house
In these thoughts that I have
With her cloak and her big black scythe

This sharp taste of iron doesn't really leave
(Never really leaves)
Like calling her ghost through the mirror
I'm painting my life on this vacant canvas with my own blood

She's calling my name in my dreams
I can't hide
Oh she's in the walls, and she never falls asleep
I feel her presence
In these streets, in my house
In these thoughts that I have
With her cloak and her big black scythe
I'm calling her ghost through the mirror
Oh I know that I just can't hide