Jeanne Moreau - Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves | Текст песни

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• Jeanne Moreau
• Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves

Each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard. Some do it with a
bitter look, some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss, the
brave man with a sword. Some kill their love when they are young, some when
they are old. Some strangle with the hands of lust, some with the hands of
gold. The kindest use a knife because, the dead so soon grow cold. Some love
too little, some too long, some buy and other sell. Some do the deed with so
many tears, and some without a sigh. For each man kills the thing he loves, yet
each man does not die.

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