A poem from Paris
Tekst: Sondre Knutsen
When you fell to the heights,
with the absence of nights.
It was simply Paris and the lights
give it a go and you will find me alone
on the top of Sacré-Coeur.
Enjoying the day, drifting away,
with a pen in my hand
in a singular band.
Making memories hatched in paper.
Give me this chance to do right with a Dance.
The room will be made with a simple brigade.
Morning and night, all the same.
For me it's life.
For some a game.