Lyrics

Every day, I make all the beds
Of the forty-nine rooms at the inn.
If someone asks me, I've always said,
"This is where I've always been."
My life I hold close. My past, no-one knows
(L'amour de ma vie est toujour avec moi)
My lover now, he thinks we two live alone
Because I tell no-one about you.

Every day, I make all the beds
For the people who stay at the inn
Some pass through quickly, some stay for days,
Some even know me by name.
Some stop for small talk, as strangers will,
Of love, of romance, in books or in films
They take these mimicries in passion's place
But they might just as well compare these:
Candles to comets, limericks to sonnets
(L'amour de ma vie est toujour avec moi)
Take these false shadows to where they belong
They say nothing at all about you.

You were my secret when I was a girl
I keep you secret again.
Then, in our town outside Montreal
Now, cleaning rooms at the inn.
Your sorrows, your heat, your shameless delight
(L'amour de ma vie est toujour avec moi)
As the earth holds the sun's warmth into the night,
So does my heart still hold you.

So now, with the linen I put on the beds
Of the forty-nine rooms at the inn
Sometimes your shadow falls there instead
And I feel your breath on my skin.
So let them all talk of their books or their films
(Mais l'amour de ma vie est toujour avec moi)
They think I agree, and it's just as well,
I still tell no-one about you.
I tell no-one about you.