head, shoulders, knees, and toes [t'aimerais que ce soit vrai]
I've never gone from the place I loved you. Actually, since then, I sculpt you in heretic poems with air and without air in my lungs. Like a cylinder, my sentiments rolled and rolls [still] for being materialized in my written and unwritten desires. I've never gone from the place I loved you. I feel you in my head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Would you like it to be true? I mean, to call you back again?
