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Plus le temps passe
Et plus je me lasse
De cette vieillesse
Qui envahit ma jeunesse
Le poid des années
Commense à peser
Sur cette conscience
Qui en a plein l'existence
L'amour est rude
Mais c'est une habitude
Il faut des années
Pour se l'approprier
Donc la logique voudrait
Que l'amour vrai
On se l'ai approprié
Qu'au bout de pleins d'années
Mais c'est éphémère
Comme tous sur cette terre!
Pris
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