You're welcome in my arms,
but please don't stay too long.
I'll know it when you're harmed,
but won't forgive you when you're wrong.
The morning sun will rise,
and I'll kiss you on the cheeks.
The morning's known as wise,
but at the moment you are weak.
So slay your soul-chained mind,
and listen to the birds.
'Cause I'm your mother and I'm kind,
please remember when it hurts.
"Il n'y a que les morts, qui ne reviennent pas."
