Text: Peter Von Poehl. May Day. Mexico.

I woke up at dawn,
Not even the tide was up.
Getting ready to run,
But the last tune was fighting back.
I opened my eyes, eventually,
Not quite sure of where I was;
Still in Mexico of course.
I got out of bed,
Like an eavesdropper
Lodging in this place,
An unfamiliar face,
A new day glimmering.
I stepped out into the sand.
I?m a stranger in this land
And I?m far from Mexico;
I?m far from Mexico.
I once saw a book
Carelessly left on display.
You were not supposed to look,
As if I wasn?t crazy enough;
I saw pages filled with aphorisms
And the things you didn?t tell.
You knew Mexico quite well;
You knew Mexico quite well.

(Merci a Leon DUONER pour cettes paroles)