.Au bout de mes vingt ans, la route est vide,
Et je mâennuie.
Jâai perdu mes amours et ma jeunesse,
Et mes amis.
Ma fenetre sâouvre sur un ciel tout gris,
Je nâai rien dâautre à faire quâattendre la nuit,
Attendre que vienne encore lâheure de chanter.<.>
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