In the garden of my childhood
Between the trees and the violence
Strawberries, the smell of vacation
Between the dramas and the carefree
That held my fears
Why do I still think about it
Besides the laughter in farandole
Besides the summer that comforts me
What do I miss so much
Why do I still think about it so much
On the roofs of southern France
That played with death
Why do I still think about it
Besides the laughter in farandole
Besides the summer that comforts me
What do I miss so much
Why do I still think about it so much