In evening restaurants,
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In Parisian booths
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In cheap electric heaven
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All night I'm wringing my hands
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From rage and torment
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And I sing something plaintively to people.
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Ringing, buzzing jazz bands,
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And evil monkeys
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Mutilated mouths bare at me.
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And I, crooked and drunk,
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I call them to the oceans
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And I pour them into champagne flowers.
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And when the morning comes, I wander along the sleepy boulevard,
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Where in fright even children run away from me.
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I'm a tired, old clown, I wave a cardboard sword,
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And the light of the day dies in the rays of my crown.
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Ringing, buzzing jazz bands,
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The monkeys are dancing
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And they celebrate Christmas wildly.
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And I, crooked and drunk,
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Fell asleep at the piano
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Under this wild rumble and triumph.
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The chimes are beating on the tower,
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The musicians leave
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And the tree burned down to the end.
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Lackeys put out the candles
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Long silent speech
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And I can't raise my face anymore.
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And then a yellow angel quietly jumped from the extinct tree
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And he said: “Poor maestro, you are tired, you are sick.
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They say that you sing tango in brothels at night.
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Even in our kind sky everyone was surprised.”
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And, covering my face with my hands, I listened to cruel speech,
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Wiping tears with a tailcoat, tears of pain and shame.
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And God's candles were burning high in the blue sky
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And the sad yellow Angel quietly melted away without a trace. |