The floor moves beneath us to the beat of the kick 
Sound reverberating from the amp to the brick 
And the smell of smoke in my clothes and hair 
Your hand hits the bass line and the rhythm goes on 
And I think I’m in love, think I belong 
And I hear the old train go down by Evangeline 

And I see smoke clouds in the air Et je vois des nuages de fumée dans l’air

The room is made of dancing and the sound of the bass 
Magic, only magic that we know how to 
We’re singing like a choir in the city church 
Trying to find some truth in the chords and the words 
And we chase them down and clutch our hands around 

But they are smoke clouds in the air 

The harmonies are thirds and fifths 
Hanging on the minor like we’d hang from a cliff 
It’s all a show, it’s all a show 
My eyes are closed or looking at you 
In the midst of the crowded room 
And when we melt together 

We are smoke clouds in the air On devient une nuage de fumée dans l’air.