Tonight I’m cooking some sweet potato noodles,

With fried chicken and its soy sauce,

Slicing and dicing some vegetables

Like a French chef I’m in those worlds.

Anyway, I know it’s not interesting at all

Who gives a fuck about my life ?

Monday I was at the barber in the mall

But no one gives a fuck about my life.

The invisible things of the daily monotony

Are, for a lot of people, completely meaningless

But with you it was just utterly

The better feeling. It’s your way to care about my face.

I miss you and your beautiful daily question

Like " how was your night ? "

The way you just need for no reason

To know if I’m good and if my feelings are currently right.