| It's like this every time, it's like this this time too:
|
| A caress to feel all the cold of an end
|
| A foolish nausea that leans you against a door
|
| This is also the case this time
|
| I am suffering like a dog and I see myself as a child
|
| Leaning against a curbstone, I don't dare feel bad
|
| I am going down to the sea, I have the school behind me now
|
| On vacation towards the sea, I am going down towards the sea
|
| With my father's face that doesn't give a damn
|
| Of that umpteenth torture of our holiday
|
| You get back in the car and you feel like you can do it by now
|
| The crew encourages you, the descent and then the sea
|
| See how it drives well, how it cuts each curve
|
| And you pretend to smile and you try hard and you can't
|
| To fish with your hands but your arms are too short
|
| In a sweat bath a little bit of vigor
|
| Okay, stop again, the baby is sick
|
| "Another time take the train", "Don't feed her anymore"
|
| On the now icy forehead it is comforting to hear
|
| The good hand of your mother that tells you "Come on, like a good one!"
|
| And my father's face looks around indifferently
|
| He is thinking about his work of him, his only refreshment
|
| He smokes his cigarette with long, wide puffs
|
| I remember that face as that of a gentleman
|
| Very lucky and strong, much more than me really
|
| And I see myself as a child, I'm going down to the sea ...
|
| And I see myself as a child, I'm going down to the sea ... |