She played the piano every evening at seven o'clock
Chopin waltzes, military marches
Tunes that had once made her heart beat
Her repertoire dated from the first war
We never saw her, except in the morning
When she went out to get her newspaper and bread
She lived in the apartment above mine
But she didn't never greeted her neighbors
Winter was like a ghost in the house
But when the weather returned
She opened her window as one opens one's heart
To play the piano in the evening at seven o'clock
But one beautiful summer evening, where it was so hot
She stopped in the middle of a tango
She had not been the victim of a mood swing
She had died of heart failure
And as she had not left will
One day we sold his things at auction
I don't know why, I who hardly played it
I bought the old instrument for myself
I already play quite a bit, I already know it by heart
At least twenty-five lennon-mccartney songs
And when I'm old, alone and abandoned
I'll play them every night at seven o'clock
I'll play them every night at seven o'clock

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