I licked every glass case
Braving the columbarium
From now on, never again
No nothing, not the wind, not anyone
Will keep me from suffering in peace
And licking the glass cases of the columbarium
I savoured the eglantine which adorns the columbarium
From now on, never again
No nothing, not the wind, not anyone
Will keep me from eating the roots1
Of the eglantine which adorns the columbarium
It's an almost magical place
Which rekindles our tragical instinct
Everyone agrees to say
That death is chic...
At the columbarium
I gathered all the planks
Which were in the columbarium
From now on, never again
No nothing, not the wind, not anyone
Will keep me from sleeping in peace
And dozing inside the box of the columbarium
I exposed my sins on the altar of the columbarium
From now on, never again
No nothing, not the wind, not anyone
Will keep me from eating the apple
And sinning on the altar of the columbarium
It's an almost troubling place
Shining with gold, black and silver
Everyone agrees to say that it's marvelous
Everyone passed to pass
Everyone burned some words
Everyone cried to cry
In the columbarium, in the columbarium
In the columbarium
1. A variation on 'Manger des pissenlits par la racine', the equivalent of 'Pushing up daisies'.