Les jours d'or [English translation]

In the crook of our arms

kings are dying.

Our chains get entangled

in their crowns

and, covered by our cries

their voices get forgotten.

In their tears

deep inside their eyes

the scent of grass

vanishes

One day, on the cold ground, their fur will sparkle

We shall free them

and the kings will come back.

Golden days will bloom then

And in our tears at last

deep inside our eyes

they will be there.

• Artist:Les Discrets
• Album:Prédateurs