The Champs-Elysées are littered with shards of glass
They reflect the light of the stars
The glass has been broken by the beggars of this city,
Broken like dreams a little too ambitious,
Like lives in the relentless hand of death,
Broken like silences a little too artificial
And the moon blows its pearly breath on the passers-by
And wraps the newsstands in its ivory reflection

Paris this night, crushes the souls,
It sings a song that only those who have seen their dreams broken listen,
Those who have seen their dreams broken
And the day gives pushes to the night
And explodes in an orgasm of bluish clouds
That reflect the dirty puddles of the sidewalk

Then the sun begins to shine painfully
The night rolls its starry dress above the clouds
The day has returned to the Champs-Elysées