Close-up of a street at dawn
A newspaper under black shoes
And the gray asphalt of a sidewalk
On 5 columns 'stop fraud'
Fade in on the title
Close-up of a huge gate
And a scrap metal sign
Indicating 'no entry'
Low angle and we guess
The blond hair of an editor
Who has probably been sleeping for hours
The forehead resting on his machine
He was curious until at the end
Of the pleasures of solitude
Of the great thrill of altitude
In the palace of Xanadu
Who can know how far this leads
This great shark of the deep
Who always knows when it's time
If not Charles Foster Kane
Citizen Kane, Kane, Citizen Kane
Accept glory if necessary
Finish it like a lord, to see
Shoot yourself with style, know
If death dined in town tonight
When the rats are gone
I was behind the glass
I snuck in before time and changed the color
Money doesn't smell
Money doesn't 'has no smell
Who will emerge victorious
The crooks who guide you and who push you to suicide
A few little voyeurs
I noted fatalist
My partner © top of the list
I'll shoot him later
He accepted in a pinch
The gloriole and its pedestal
Feeling that he would end badly
I don't know why anyway
His way of committing suicide
Remains entirely in his style
Enigmatic and without motives
Only he could tell you give
Close up stretcher and we take away
White hair and coldness
Of a great shark of the deep
Of Mr. Charles Foster Kane
Citizen Kane, Kane, Citizen Kane...

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