Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
Sans toi je mors, ma chère, ma chère
Si te me quitte, le monde, c’est rien;
Mon Coeur...
You’re out there in the peopled world
Bobbing heads crowd your fair face
You sit in tunnels and in buses...
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