It's past midnight, the lens/aim becomes distorted
For a regular of those freedoms that go against the norm
Let her shine in her nonstandard audacity
For one more morning, and forget uniformity
Let her go out tonight,
Tell to temporary comfort
That its portrait displeases her,
And finally live off her excesses
Let her run away tonight
And maybe even be moved,
Away from inquiring looks,
To the sound of a French song
On the next day, the portrait is being done again
And its loyal costume appears once again
The secondary effects of a certain charm
Delicately wear off while she recovers
Let her go out tonight,
Tell to temporary comfort
That its portrait displeases her,
And finally live off her excesses
Let her run away tonight
And maybe even be moved,
Away from inquiring looks,
To the sound of a French song
A French song
Let her run away tonight
And maybe even be moved,
Away from inquiring looks,
To the sound of a French song