Mon apéro

We can preach morality
When we’ve got good soup and a warm fire
But when you’ve got nothing but a dime
You take your pleasure where you can
In the neighborhood, they joke with me
I’m a regular at the bar
It’s true that with the drunks, I ramble
Every time my heart feels too heavy
Others look for complicated things
But since I can’t stand the fake
I’m at the bar’s edge
Every night I take
My happy hour…

I chat with the owner
I call him by his first name
Well, he’s a big guy
Like the guys, I tell him:
"Arthur, go for it!"
And I’ll buy the round at the bar
The jukebox plays a tune
Boredom slowly fades away
Everything seems beautiful
And I drown my deep boredom
For an hour, deep down
In a happy hour…

At sixteen, I was a real looker
All the guys were sweet-talking me
So I started living it up
It came, I don’t know how
They paid for everything without a word
I had a car and a hotel
But I always had to smile
With a heart full of bitterness
And I dreamed of a little mechanic
Who’d only give me kisses
So to chase away the dark
I drank in every bar
Happy hours…

Perched on a stool
Drowning in my cup
A straw
And in front of the tired dancers
I felt caught by the shoe seller’s charm
More than me rich in love
He kissed every day
A secretary
And I had nothing to console
My heart so forlorn
But happy hours…

But the cocktails made me dizzy
So I soon quit the job
Here I am again, good God, life is dumb,
Back in my old neighborhood
There’s my little church again
And at home, nothing’s changed... nothing!
Nothing, except my heart, this gray prison,
To which everything feels foreign
Alas, happiness is fleeting
Seeing that love was leaving
I returned to the bar
Where they’d buy me drinks at night
Happy hours…

I don’t believe in anything anymore
Owner, one more round!
And make it strong
It’s annoying, yeah, when I see the skies again
And in my dreams, I fish for blue dreams
Slumped from the hard knocks
I didn’t hit the right number
The number…
And my heart empty of love
No longer has its true support:
Happy hours…