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Charles Aznavour

She may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or
The price I have to pay

She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell

She may be the mirror of my dream
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them
When they cry

She may be the love that cannot hope to last,
May come to me from shadows of the past,
That I'll remember till the day I die.

She may be the reason I survive,
The why and wherefore I'm alive,
The one I'll care for through the
Rough and ready years.

Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she, she, she
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