I'm a being to blow,
automatically come.
I'm a glove
to see,
a 3D glove articulated,
through numbers wrote for you, Celine.
Oh,
Celine,
a drum of rocks,
under the sea,
the squalor fantasy.
When she listens to the song of Cyphereth,
not the time of two blues,
blues dry.
Oh,
Celine,
metamorphosis of love.
Don't you love us?
I'd like to be,
but I don't feel like this.
The point of my uncovering here
was taken to sleep.
Start again,
the world
is turning on,
Timers we configurated,
The time of the canvas falls to you.
I believe,
metamorphosis of time.
I'm not jealous,
I'd like to be,
But I don't feel like this.
I don't feel
like this.
