Maximelienne, the sunset sings, tired ladies go;
Restless down the streets of dreams that only prophets know.

Max, you know I've heard it said that only children see;
Grown-ups like to laugh sometimes, but then how else could it be,
Maximelienne.

Maximelienne, the morning shines like a million sheets of gold;
And I haven't got the words that the poets never told.

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