.J'aime les dimanches quand il mouille
Et qu'il me vient
Des regrets anciens
J'aime quand la pluie me débarbouille
Je me souviens du temps où tu m'aimais bien.
Mais l'orage a passé
Il ne reste rien
Que des feuilles mouillées
Et puis les chagrins
Les chemis.
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