Hello,
If you feel like sharing your favorite songs or dedicating them…
So take advantage of it; a little music is the cure for all ills.
tenderness
This song is dedicated to my dad, who watches over me from above.
My old man
by Daniel Guichard
In his old, worn-out overcoat
Winter was passing, summer
In the chilly small hours of the morning
My old man.
There was only one Sunday a week
On other days, it was the seed
That he would win as one can
My old man.
In summer, we used to go to the sea
You see, it wasn't that bad.
It wasn't exactly paradise either.
Well, too bad.
In his old, worn-out overcoat
He had been taking it for years
The same suburban bus
My old man.
In the evening, coming home from work
He would sit down without saying a word
He was the quiet type
My old man.
Sundays were monotonous
We never received anyone.
It didn't make him unhappy.
I believe you, old friend.
In his old, worn-out overcoat
Paydays when he came home
You could hear him yelling a bit
My old man.
We knew the song
Everyone went through it, the bourgeoisie, the bosses,
The left, the right, even God
With my old man.
We didn't have a TV in our house.
That’s where I was going to look.
For a few hours, the escape
You know, it's stupid!
To say that I spent years
Beside him without looking at him
We barely opened our eyes
The two of us.
I could have, it wasn't smart
To walk a little way with him
It might have made him happy
My old man.
But when you're just fifteen
We don't have hearts big enough
To fit all those things in
You see.
Now that he is far away from here
Thinking about all that, I tell myself
I’d really like him to be near me
DAD...
Marylena