It goes without saying, I so love life
And a bit too much good-looking boys.
I have a heart that multiplies (so it can love many of those boys)
And that makes for weird additions
And in the end, I don't have to be ashamed.
I'm a quiet nothing of a girl,
But when the time comes to balance the accounts,
I wonder if all will go well
And that scares me, because people have told me
That they wouldn't take me in Paradise.
Oh good Mister Saint Peter,
I will chit-chat with you in my own way.
You can give me a good scolding
And call me all kinds of names,
You can make me lose my purse,
The one I stole on rue du Bac,
But save my spot in Paradise.
People have often told me that it's so nice.
Look closely at me.
I'm so poor.
Look at my hands,
The hands of a poor girl.
And look at all my sins
And at my old heart worn out from cheating.
There's a ton of names written there.
It's not my fault, they all made me happy.
Oh good Mister Saint Peter,
I don't know how to make prayers
But people say you are so kind.
Save my spot in Paradise.
It goes without saying, I loved life,
But now that gets me what?
Here I am all cold and all stiff
Within four wooden planks.
Really, my soul is not proud
Before the Pearly Gates,
Beyond which I can make out, behind Saint Peter,
An ideal eternity.
I'm just one soul of a nobody at all,
I don't even know enough to get down on my knees.
Oh good Mister Saint Peter,
I will chit-chat with you in my own way.
You can take away my desires,
Deprive me of my memories,
And even confiscate my brooch,
The one that handsome Philip bought for me,
But give me my spot in Paradise.
People have often told me that it's so nice.
Look closely at me.
I'm so poor.
Look at my hands,
The hands of a poor girl.
And look at all my sins
And at my old heart worn out from cheating.
Of all the names written there,
There's only one left, Jesus.
Oh good Mister Saint Peter,
I don't know how to make prayers,
So let's say that I said nothing,
But keep me in Paradise.