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You're my friend, you're not my wife
I see you suffering, I don't know what to say
I'm not a doctor of the soul
I'm neither your brother nor your husband.
If it's him you don't want anymore
So tell him and tell me more about it
You want me to tell you you're like your bag
All the things in your life in bulk
A dose, a rose, a Bach CD
As for your clothes, you look like nothing
It's techno on satin
Your lover may not be wrong.
Your headaches are getting tiresome
You're my friend, you're not my wife
I see you suffering, I don't know what to say
I'm just a tear collector
I'm neither your brother nor your husband.
If it's him you don't want anymore
Tell him and tell me more about it
You want me to tell you, you're losing it
You put squares in circles
An apple, an eraser, a Celine Dion
But me, old girl, I have nothing to do with it.
The love of others is not mine
You want me to tell you the truth?
"I'm glad you want to leave him."
You're my friend, you're not my wife
It hurts me to see you suffer
But I hate melodramas.
Admit that it's not my fault
I don't deserve shouting like that
The one you don't like anymore is the other one
You want me to tell you, I don't recognize you
I've never seen you in this state.
Your tears, your flowers, your song of me
Make an effort to lose a little weight
Become the blue-eyed girl again
Learn Aznavour's song
And it will start again as always
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