Paris, October of '73
I'm in our bar once again
And I'm writing write to say
That it's the same cup and the same light
Shining on the champagne in various shades of blue
In the mirror in front I'm just another customer
A man was already happy, maybe
And I see that tears of pain run down his face
Yearning, certainly, for some grand love
But at seeing him so sad and lonely
It is I who is crying
The same tears
And, such is life, the time passes
And continues reminding of
Songs of too much love
Yes, it will be one more, one more whatever
That comes from time to time
And looks back
It is, a woman always exists
To stay thinking of herself
I neither say, nor remember more.