Les Jours Tristes

It's hard,
hard, not to sit on your hands,
burrow your head in the sand,
hard, not to make other plans
and claim that you've done all you can,
all alone
and life must go on.

It's hard,
hard, to stand up for what's right
and bring home the bacon each night,
hard, not to break down and cry,
when every ideal that you tried
has been wrong.
But you must carry on.

It's hard,
but you know it's worth the fight,
cause you know you've got the truth on your side,
when the accusations fly.
Hold tight!
Don't be afraid of what they'll say.
Who cares what cowards think? Anyway,
They will understand some day,
some day.

It's hard,
hard, when you're here all alone
and everyone else's gone home.
Harder to know right from wrong
when all objectivity's gone
and it's gone.
But you still carry on.

‘cause you,
you are the only one left
and you've got to clean up this mess.
You know you'll end up like the rest
Bitter and twisted - unless
you stay strong
And you carry on.

Les jours tristes,
Yann Tiersen.
Photo by Robert Doisneau.

PS: Espero que o dia esteja a correr bem para alguém!
Ella