In the Attic

He's walking slowly, gently
Like every old man in the street
His coat, the bag he's carrying
No one can expose the disease

He's sitting on the coffee deck and
He's asking for a cigarette
Trapt in his lonely daily routine
He's counting trees on his way back with no meaning

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head
Long gone from his head

He's staying with his family
Asking the same things repeatedly
Should they feel guilty of being
Exhausted by his insanity?

These sempiternal questions ringing
In their ears everytime he comes here
But they know they can't blame him and he
Will forget the days he has spent with them in the end

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head

He's leaving with no memory of these last days
And they feel like never before the disease

Yeah!
Let's go!

(...)

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head

His memories are held in the attic
Locked in there, vanishing slowly
Souvenirs of his past days
Long gone from his head



Credits
Writer(s): Boris Thévenoud, Juliette Felician, Maxence Terpan, Nicolas Cumin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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