It is already a quarter past eight
You will be late again
Arrange the collar of your jacket
Brush the fair hair which remains
I am always there when you want
Do not assume this unhappy air
She could as well make a drama of it
Your wife
You will return to your house
To watch the television
After 5 years of common life
You support her
She accustoms herself
Hide from him your bad mood
Think of bringing flowers to him
Even if at times you condemn it,
Your wife
Near me you come to seek
Pretenses of stolen happiness
But as soon as you have troubles
It is with her that you entrust them
This communion of every day
It is a form of the love
She is much more than Marie-Jeanne
Your wife
Of course you do not want to acknowledge it
But you are full with prejudices
As soon as you leave my arms
You become again a small middle-class man
To give you confidence in you
At the heart, if it doesn’t displease you
To see her laying down the weapons
Your wife
Me, I am that which you wish
For your pride and your pleasure
I would like it better quite simply
To be the mother of your children
If it is believed that I have the beautiful role
It is she who sleeps against your shoulder
In the final analysis, I wonder
If is not better for you to return
To your wife