| Cracked walls,
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| A narrow staircase,
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| An old garret
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| And here I am at home.
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| A bed that warps,
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| A crooked table,
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| A kerosene lamp
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| And here I am at home
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| But in the evening when the cockroach enters me
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| And my heart is too unhappy,
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| I pull back the curtains on my window
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| And I widen my eyes.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a girl,
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| There's a beautiful girl
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| Who has everything he needs
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| And even the superfluous.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| She has money, a house, cars,
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| Silk sheets, jewelry, furs.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a girl,
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| There's a 'beautiful' girl.
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| If I had a quarter of it, I wouldn't ask for more,
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| On the other side of the street.
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| Often the soul grieves,
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| When I go back home,
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| I go stooping,
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| It's raining or it's cold.
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| You have to climb seven floors,
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| Follow a long corridor.
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| I have no more courage.
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| I lie down and I sleep
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| And the next day has to start all over again.
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| I go to work in the icy morning,
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| So I tell myself there are some who are too lucky
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| And the others not enough.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a 'girl',
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| There's a beautiful girl
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| For whom all our miseries
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| Will always be unknown.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| When it's cold, she' in' whole nights,
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| When it's hot, she goes on a cruise.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a 'girl',
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| There's a 'beautiful' girl.
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| Live one day his life, I wouldn't ask for more,
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| On the other side of the street.
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| I barely knew him
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| We had seen each other three times
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| But at the end of the week
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| He came to my house.
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| In my room on the seventh floor,
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| At the end of the corridor,
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| He whispered, "I love you."
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| I said, "I adore you".
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| He showered me with kisses, caresses,
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| I no longer want anything in his arms.
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| I see her eyes full of tenderness,
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| So I whisper to myself:
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a 'girl',
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| There's a poor girl
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| who knows nothing of love,
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| Nor of his distraught joys.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| She can keep her mister whom she hates,
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| Her fine jewelry, all her luxury and the rest.
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| On the other side of the street,
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| There's a 'girl',
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| There's a poor girl
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| Who often looks, with a sad and lost air,
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| On the other side of the street. |