Peur Être

I'll marry you on a Saturday morning
My father, a little tired
Will watch us, perhaps with tears in his eyes
Shortly after
You'll take me back to the seaside
And you'll tell me you love me, maybe

Maybe simply
Maybe not really
Maybe a paradise

A few months later, a little late
I know, I'll have my moods
He'll be born, in May, maybe
He'll look like you, and you'll be annoyed with me
You won't lose your sense of humor
And I, in turn, will tell you I love you

Maybe simply
Maybe not really
Maybe a paradise

In our house, there will be pictures of us
By the sea
That we'll look at, and we'll say to each other

Maybe simply
Maybe not really
Maybe a paradise

I'll marry you on a Saturday morning
My father, a little tired
Won't shed any tears, I know