I received a letter
Perhaps a month ago
It arrived in error
A mistake by the postman
Sprayed with perfume
Red carmine lipstick
Should I have opened it
Perhaps not
But me, I am a man
who likes this kind of game
I don't care if she calls me
Alphonse or Fred, it’s as she wants
As she wants
Pretty daisies
To dot her "i"s
Curves written
As in the abbeys
Some misspellings
A slight dyslexia
And by way of signature
“The sexy little blond”
And me, I am a man
who likes this kind of game
I do not like the nuns
And I fell in love
In love
She's writing that on Sunday
She will be on the cliff
Where I took her by the hips
And if hypothetically
I would not have the tact
To assume my lovemaking
She will choose the impact
30 meters below
And me, I am a man
who likes this kind of game
I don't want her to hurt herself
Because I fell in love
In love
Thanks to the postmark
From an English Channel town
I was at the outpost
On the Sunday morning
The place was deserted
I will have to be patient
Suicidal blonds
Are not so numerous
And me, I am a man
who likes this kind of game
Wanting to beat Newton
Because I fell in love
In love
She was looking over the Channel
When I recognized her
I took by the sleeve **
My naive little girl
Who wasn't so naive
By the look of the profile
One little inhabitant
Was making beneath her navel
And me, I am a man
who likes this kind of game
He can call me
“Papa” If he wants to
If he wants to