An empty stage swathed in velvet drapes
Curtain folds drawn in shadowscapes
Little girls swirl in the air
In their hair
They wear the flowers we threwAnd when they dance
They pretend their youth
Isadora
Je vie a la moiMy windscreen's streaming
With jewels of rain
To and fro the wipers strain
As they sway and sway to clear the viewAnd as they dance
They pretend their youth
Isadora
Je vie a la moi
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