I'm sick
I'm sick of the world
I'm sick of my curls
I'm sick of small toys
I'm sick of a voice
I'm so sick
And I know not what to do
I'm so sick
Of the hell I've been through
But most of all
I'll say it proud and stand tall
Because my words are true
I'm so sick of not being with you
I'm sick of not hearing you talk
I'm sick of not holding you as I walk
I'm sick of not smelling your hair
Because mon etoile
I love you more than air