Sometimes I see pictures in my mind
Of large windows in columned halls
Of walls and marble staircases
Of chandeliers with shining crystals
Of flames in open fireplaces
Of beds with velvet baldachins
The carpet has long been worn-out
You know what—I'll just roll it up
It doesn't go with the wallpaper anyway
Sometimes, I feel ashamed that I don't live there
Sometimes I see pictures in my mind
Of colourful awnings and white trellises
With wild roses and tralling vine
Of gardens so big you can't see where they end
Of box trees shaped into statuettes
A gravel path is making a nobel noise with every step
The flowers outside the window are tired and grey
I won't plant any new ones
They wouldn't blossom here anyway, I do know that
Sometimes, I feel ashamed that I don't live there
Sometimes I see pictures in my mind
Of the smiles of well-spoken ladies
Of tanned faces talking
Pictures like the ones you can find on cigarette ads
Gold-plated rakes on green blankets
Foggy glasses and coloured jettons
It's time again to take my shoes to the cobbler
My friends and I, we drink beer instead of wine
When it comes to playing bridge, I haven't got the slightest clue
Sometimes I feel ashamed that I'm not one of them
Sometimes I see pictures in my mind
Of a piece of bread in mutilated hands
Of an old woman, whom they drag out alone
From under collapsing walls
Of burnt faces buried in hands
Sometimes I feel ashamed for having felt ashamed
That's what I wanted to tell you—are you still listening?
No, you're asleep already, I guess the day has made you tired
I turn off the lights and I tuck you in closer
Sometimes I feel ashamed for being so happy anyway