JONES, Grace

I’ve seen that face before

Strange, I've seen that face before

Seen him hanging 'round my door

Like a hawk stealing for the prey

Like the night waiting for the day

Strange, he shadows me back home

Footsteps echo on the stones

Rainy nights, on Haussmann Boulevard

Parisian music drifting from the bars

Tu cherches quoi, rencontrer la mort   ?

Tu te prends pour qui   ?

Toi aussi, tu détestes la vie

Dance in bars and restaurants

Home with anyone who wants

Strange he's standing there alone

Staring eyes chill me to the bone

Dans sa chambre, Joël et sa valise

Un regard sur ses fringues

Sur les murs, des photos

Sans regret, sans mélo

La porte est claquée, Joël s’est barré