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Tourterelle des bois

de Jean C. Roché

I'm driving fast
And walking too slow
I'm catching my breath
I'm wrecking the show

Riding through storm
I'm riding through sun
I'd be padding fast with the wind on my chest
If your heart I had won

I'm on my way to you now
But I can't get there quickly enough
No matter how I try
No matter how I try

I'm flying too high
I'm making a scene,
On my way to your arms
My impatience is mean

I'm flying too high
I'm making a scene
On my way to your arms
I'm blazing

Running through grass
I'm pacing the shore
Awake before dawn
To your heart I implore

I'm skimming waves
I'm facing the wheel
I'm making a fist
And your heart I will steal

I'm on my way to you now
But I can't get there
Quickly enough
No matter how I try
No matter how I try

I'm flying too high
I'm making a scene
On my way to your arms
My impatience is mean

I'm flying too high
I'm making a scene
On my way to your arms
I'm blazing

Diving through mud
And tearing my pants
I'm lingering long
In search of your glance

I'm waiting for down to light up my tracks
I've wagered my heart so I've nothing to pack
I'm racing with my pulse, and I'm gliding at night
I'm wishing hard I could fall into your arms from my flight

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