Original Title: "Dure à passer"
Year: 1975
You hung around the whole night in the cafés of the center
You go back home, you take a paper, a pen
But nothing comes because in the end there is nothing to say
You have a bath then you prepare your suicide
Sometimes night is way shorter than we imagine
Death comes quickly but it's too late, the day is here
In the tree, always the same, here is the nightingale already
The day that comes has stabbed you, you are pallid
I feel, I feel all those who are alone this night
Who are going to pass the night holding the handrail
To look at the abyss, to sink in it
I feel death who springs out of the shattered mirror
We have to go down in the street, we have to populate the night
We have to take death by the halter and lead her for a drink
Together in a bright dawn of dew drops
Which will be the countless words we left on the ground
Oh my Anne when I will be on the other side of the night
I will be in the salt of your tears, yours only
Tonight death lays her warm muzzle on my shoulder
Like a good companion not too bothersome for now
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