Lyrics
As her hand brush past the train door
tension switching off
gloom upon a cough
Back on track
the lights the rasps
i'm so worn out now
i can't let go
In rush hour sometimes
i get to think about those
patterns facing on the station walls
Is that what abstraction looks like ?
Random shapes as in life
seem to fit somehow on a plan.
Barthelemy BOUVERET, Simon LAPILLONNE, Thibault PICOT
ROY MUSIC