We pile up worries,
worries waiting for things
to happen without a hitch,
without a hitch and for a while.
We hold on as long as we can,
as long as we manage, after all
not so well. Believe me or not,
believe me or not, I don't care.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
What we say about what we see is so normal.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
We just pretend, it's better that way1.
We think it will get better tomorrow,
it will get better, and yet we know
we'll grow old at the same spot2
We'll grow old holding hands,
always talking about the same things,
saying the same about the same things,
about our sappy love story
that went a bit too mushy3.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
What we say about what we see is so normal.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
We just pretend, it's better that way.
I know what you're thinking,
what you're about to say, about to do:
filling silences with sighs and keeping quiet.
Stepping into the dance of slightly bitter memories,
Taking a step back from each other and then seriously
going out for a breather.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
What we say about what we see is so normal.
We just pretend, and after all it works pretty well.
We just pretend, it's better that way.
1. that plays on "comme çi, comme ça" (so-so)2. lit. "we'll end up being old at the same spot"3. lit. "about our rose-perfumed story that no longer smells good"