God, life is cruel
To the musician of the streets
His friend his companion
It's the accordion
Who is it that helps him To live
To sit down when he gets drunk
It’s you, it’s me, but no
It’s the accordion
br/>Grant, grant, grant
Alms give accord accordion
They are like ass and shirt
And when we verbalize them
He accompanies on the violin
His accordion
He spends a quiet night
Then in the morning he goes back
A little air in the lungs
Of the accordion
Grant, grant, grant
Alms to the accord the accord ©on
When sometimes he massacres him
His little mother-of-pearl buttons
He takes them from his jacket
For the accordion
He, borrows his suspenders
To rescue the string
Who holds his pants
In accordion
Grant, grant, grant
Alms à accordé accordion
But one day out of weariness
He will let solitude
Show up on the horizon
From the accordion
He will get fifty
Pennies at the flea market
And we will pay more attention
To the accordion

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