L'endomètre rebelle [English translation]

I always hear them calling out to me

The shouts of the rebel endometrium

Just like in the season of love

In the times of before

Before the great detours

It was the time of before

I always hear them calling out to me

The shouts of the rebel angel

Slaughtering the ceremonials of our loves

Of our prosperous loves

Oh, you! My poor love

Who knows if it was wrong

To announce its death

In the middle of the night

Right in the middle of the night

Come on, shout louder

Your shouts will be the death of me

Just like a precise move

A move way too precise

I always hear them calling out to me

The shouts of the rebel endometrium

Just like in the season of love

In the times of the turtledoves

It was the time of before

The surroundings

It was the time of before

Oh, you! My poor love

I know that memories

Never stop the sights

That we only need to fall

To become a bullet

Speeding straight forwards

Always forwards

Without looking behind

Without fearing the void

Who knows if it was wrong

To announce its death

In the middle of the night

Right in the middle of the night

Come on, shout louder

Your shouts will be the death of me

Just like a precise move

A move way too precise

Who knows if it was wrong

To announce its death

In the middle of the night

Right in the middle of the night

Come on, shout louder

Your shouts will be the death of me

Just like a precise move

A move way too precise

• Artist:Pierre Lapointe
• Album:La forêt des mal-aimés