Le Mal De Vivre

It doesn't warn you when it comes, it comes from afar.
It wandered from shore to shore, with a smirk on its face.
And then one morning, upon waking, it's almost nothing
But it's there, it lulls you to sleep in the small of your back.

The pain of living, the pain of living that you must endure, no matter what.

You can wear it over your shoulder or like a jewel in your hand
Like a flower in your buttonhole or just at the tip of your breast.
It's not necessarily misery, it's not Valmy, it's not Verdun
But it's tears in your eyes at the dying day, at the coming day.

The pain of living, the pain of living that you must endure, no matter what.

Whether you're from Rome or America, whether you're from London or Beijing
Whether you're from Egypt or Africa, from the Porte Saint-Martin
We all say the same prayer, we all walk the same path.
How long it feels when you have to do it with your pain in the small of your back.
They may want to understand us
Those who come to us with empty hands
We don't want to hear them anymore, we can't, we've had enough.
And all alone in the silence of a never-ending night
Suddenly we think of those who never returned.

The pain of living, their pain of living
That you must endure, no matter what.

And without warning, it comes, it comes from afar.
It wandered from shore to shore, with a laugh on its face.
And then one morning, upon waking, it's almost nothing
But it's there, it amazes you, in the small of your back.

The joy of living, the joy of living, you must endure, your joy of living.