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soldiering soldier is dancing down trenches, he's trying to break through your maginot line. stuck in his rucksack are flowers and sonnets that thaw a girl's heart in almost no time. sometimes, we talk like lovers! whisper nothing in eachother's ears! but don't be surprised if one day you find no substance in what you hear... burned your hand on the kettle, now you won't drink the tea? well maybe, you've just got to trust me. the war has been over for almost six decades, but soldiering soldier still roams paris streets, like all of the battles they tried to call "phony," he feels more like a ghost and much less like a human being.