Your perfume is on my clothes.

And when the wind blows they will know.

And you will laugh at my time.

While I cry over some wine.

 

Your perfume is on my clothes. 

And when the wind blows they will know.

That you were mine for a short time.

 

To the stars and to the moon.

From September until late June.

I will wait through August alone.

I will pick up the pieces at home.

 

To the stars and to the moon.

Here we are…now who are you?

It’s your scent that lingers the most.

It’s your scent that hurts the most.

 

Your perfume is on my clothes.

And when the wind blows they will know.

And I will laugh at our lost time.

While you cry over some wine.

 

Your perfume is on my clothes.

And when the wind blows they will know.

That I was yours for a short time.