Paroles, paroles… My life is made of words

But now, taking off my famous smile,

I think: do you have really any worth,

So usual, wise, eternal, versatile,

Or are you always words, but mere words?

How can you prove that you’re not someone’s shade,

And all you have is no-one’s but yours,

That this past day has not been lived in vain,

And everything you’ve done has got some worth?

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