They're not really ghosts
But their absence is so strong
That it creates a presence in us
That makes us weak or supports us
It's those we loved who create an almost tangible void
Because the love we gave them is orphaned and seeks a target

For some we knew, we had prepared for the worst
But others disappeared all at once, without warning
We didn't say goodbye to them, they left without our agreement
Because death has its reasons that our reason ignores

So we gathered in utopian comfort
Together we are stronger but we are no less sad
It's alone that we grieve, because we are alone when we feel
We tame the pain and the presence of our absent ones

Our absent ones are always there, in mind, in our memories
On this holiday film, on these photos full of smiles
Our absent ones surround us and will stay by our side
They come back to life in our dreams, as if nothing had happened

We reassure ourselves in the face of the pain that chokes us
Telling ourselves that wherever they are, they are surely less hurt than us
So we walk, we laugh, we sing, but their shadow remains
In a corner of our brains, in a corner of our happiness

We, we have plans, we draw our tomorrows
We decide the path, we look at the future in our hands
And in the heart of the action, in our victories or our hells
We imagine from time to time that our absent ones see us doing

Each life is a miracle, but the final is annoying
I've done my research, we won't get out alive
We must learn to accept it to try to grow old happily
But each year our absent ones are a little more numerous

Each new disappearance turns our hearts into lace
But time passes and sharp pains become pastel
This time which, for once, is a real ally
Each passing hour is a balm, it will take thousands

Me, the dead, the missing, I don't talk about them much
So I write about them, I tickle my taboo subjects
This great mystery that awaits us, our ultimate common point to all
Which makes us run after life, knowing that death is on our heels

They're not really ghosts
But their absence is so strong
That it creates a presence in us
That makes us weak or supports us
It's those we loved who create an almost infinite void
That inspires first degree texts

It must be said that death lacks irony

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