I found her outside my door,
One night, when I was going home.
Everywhere, she's escorting me.
She's back, here she is,
The dead-loves sniffer.
She has followed me, step by step.
The bitch, to hell with you !
She's back, here she is
With her fasting face
With the rings under her big eyes,
She makes us feel like laging behind,
She makes us feel like crying,
She turns our mornings wan
And our nights long and desolate.
The bitch ! She would even
Turn midsummer into winter.
In your sad taffy dress
With your blowzy hair,
Your expression is that of despair,
You're not nice watching.
Come on, go and show elsewhere
Your sad boredom face.
I have no taste for unhappiness.
Go fly a kite !
I still want to swing my hip,
I still want to get drunk on spring,
I want to have sleepless nights,
With my heart racing, on the loose.
Before tolling for the dead
And until my last breath,
I still want to say "I love you"
And to want to die of love.
She said : "Open the door for me.
I had followed you, step by step.
I know that your love is dead.
I am back, here I am.
They decleimes their poems to you,
Your fine gentlemen, your fine kids,
Your fake Rimbaud, your fake Verlaine.
Well ! It's over, now."
From now on, she makes me stay awake all night.
She's hanging around my neck,
She's coiled around my hip
She lies down on my knees.
Everywhere, she escorts me
And she follows me, step by step.
She's waiting for me outside my foor.
She's back, she's here,
The solitude, the solitude...