I am back in Paris, dear Marcel
I’m sorry to inform you that your book’s not doing well
I hope you know I’ve done all that I could
Given the current crisis, the outlook isn’t good
You will have to buy them back, they just don’t sell
And I hope your health’s improving, dear Marcel

Thank you for your letter, dear Gaston
I threw it in the fire where at least it keeps me warm
I am losing patience, losing sleep and losing time
And my lungs are filled with suffocating slime, thanks for asking
You can sell the books yourself and leave me here alone
I’ll throw this in the fire too, Gaston

If I don’t die this evening
I’ll throw myself down at your feet
And with nothing left to prove, we’ll go to the Louvre
And I’ve always wanted to travel to India
And I just might
If I don’t die tonight 

Did you get my letter, dear Marcel?
I’m happy that I finally have good news to tell
Marcel, you have won the Prix Goncourt
And when the plague has ended, we will celebrate for sure
For tonight, we’ll toast with our finest chablis
To your speedy recovery, mon ami

I’ve been thinking of you, dear Gaston
Do you remember those cold nights in Orleans?
I suppose it must have been quite difficult for some
But all I recall’s your heartbeat, like a military drum
And your uniform, your cape and your cigar
I’m tired now, dear Gaston, au revoir

If I don’t die this evening
I’ll throw myself down at your feet
And with nothing left to prove, we’ll go to the Louvre
And I’ve always wanted to travel to India
And I just might
If I don’t die tonight