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Les carnets web de l'écrivain Stanley Péan

After Hours *

The taste of her kiss on your lips
The touch of her hands on your hips
As you danced so close to each other
Her heartbeat felt just like a thunderstorm

The club’s been closed for weeks now
You never went back, you never asked how
Yet you’re still dancing in your dreams
She’s gone – yet it seems
You still long for the after hours

As music played somewhere nearby
She whispered things no heart could deny
As you danced so close to one another
Your heart and soul stirred like a summer storm

The club’s been closed for weeks now
You never went back, you never asked how
Yet you’re still dancing in your dreams
She’s gone – yet it seems
You still long for the after hours

The night is so young
The need you feel for her is still strong
She’s still the empress of desire
Just a word from her can still set
Your heart and soul on fire

But the club’s been closed for years now
And you never went back, you never asked how
Yet ye still dancing in your dreams
She’s gone – yet it seems
You still long for the after hours

(*) Tirée du Cycle impérial
Paroles: Stanley Péan
Musique: Anthony Rozankovic
Interprète: Vincent Potel
(Démo; inédit sur disque)