| There are very few women
|
| Who sing of this yoke’s golden sting
|
| And tie my heart to the string of weeping
|
| There are very few men
|
| Who cry for wine of blood and rye
|
| And cut out my heart
|
| For the wild love of weeping
|
| Oh, sister fine, fine, fine, easy
|
| I know it’s been hell not to touch
|
| Oh, sister, mine, mine, mine, easy
|
| I never wanted you that much
|
| Oh, sister mine, oh
|
| How natural it all seemed then
|
| And how remote and impossible now
|
| Oh, sister mine, oh
|
| How beautiful it all seemed then
|
| And how sick and detestable now
|
| Oh, sister fine, fine, fine, easy
|
| I know it’s been hell not to touch
|
| Oh, sister mine, mine, mine, easy
|
| I never wanted you so much
|
| There are very few women
|
| Who sing of this yoke’s golden sting
|
| And tie my heart to the string of weeping
|
| There are very few men
|
| Who cry for wine of blood and rye
|
| And cut out my heart
|
| For the wild love of weeping
|
| There are very few seas left to sail
|
| For someone like me who by theft and jail
|
| Was made to bleed and left so frail
|
| There are very few seas left to sail
|
| For the likes of me who though apt to sail
|
| Were made to conceal and had to fail
|
| Oh, sister fine, fine, fine, easy
|
| I know it’s been hell not to touch
|
| Oh, sister mine, mine, mine, easy
|
| I never wanted you that much
|
| Oh, sister fine, fine, fine, easy
|
| I know it’s been hell not to touch
|
| Oh, sister mine, mine, mine, easy
|
| I never wanted you so much
|
| Et puis on est la
|
| Parmi les vautours
|
| Qui portent leurs guerres dans les villes
|
| Qui ne cessent de verser le sang des autres
|
| Mais l’homme, il faut bien l’aimer
|
| Surtout dans la beaute
|
| De la revolte — il faut l’aimer
|
| Meme quand il t’accuse
|
| Meme quand il se refuse
|
| Quand il s’invente des faux amis
|
| Des vrais ennemis
|
| Ou comme nous — des pays caches
|
| L’amour d’ou qu’il vienne
|
| C’est toujours l’amour |