We forget nothing of nothing, we forget nothing at all, we forget nothing of nothing, we get used to it, that's all. Neither these departures, nor these ships, nor these journeys that cross us, from landscape to landscape, and from face to face. Neither these ports, nor these bars, nor these hideous traps, where we wait for the grey morning, at the cinema of our whisky. Neither all this, nor anything in the world, can make us forget, can't make us forget, that as true as the earth is round. We forget nothing of nothing, we forget nothing at all, we forget nothing of nothing, we get used to it, that's all. Neither this never, nor this always, nor this I love you, nor this love, that we follow through our hearts, from grey to grey, from tear to tear. Neither these white arms of a single night, necklaces of jewels for our animus, that we untie in the little days, by promises of return. Neither all this, nor anything in the world, can make us forget, can't make us forget, that as true as the earth is round. We forget nothing of nothing, we forget nothing at all, we forget nothing of nothing, we get used to it, that's all. Neither this time, where I have made a thousand songs of my regrets, nor this time, where my memories will take my laughter for a smile. Neither this big bed, where my remorse meets death, nor this big bed, that I wish for a certain day, like a fair. Neither all this, nor anything in the world, can make us forget, can't make us forget, that as true as the earth is round. We forget nothing of nothing, we forget nothing at all, we forget nothing of nothing, we get used to it, that's all.