I call my conscience Jean-Pierre, he speaks to me in French,

but sometimes my translations turn out wrong;

he says: "La vie serai tres bon" my ego for to quench,

but I think that he says I don't belong...

I try to understand, he says: "Il aide toujours į dire,"

I answer yes, but haven't got a clue;

when I feel down he whispers soft: "Essayez de sourire,

vous devez croire je suis ici pour vous."

"Toujours l'amour" he whispers as I pen another verse,

I struggle hard to carve out every word;

and sadly, I interpret this as some foul Gallic curse,

I trash the page and that's when he screams: "MERDE!"

"Vous imbecile!" he yells as I fall into apathy,

"C'est tres facile!" I take his words as trite;

the inner voice will try and make you happy, don't you see?

mais sometimes I hear Noir when he says White.

If you should hear your conscience, please take very special heed,

it knows what's right and to your heart is true;

the language does not matter, it's the meaning there indeed,

I would not want to lose it, voulez vous?

translations: La vie serai tres bon = life will be fine

                   Il aide toujours į dire = it always helps to talk

                   Essayez de sourire, vous devez croire je suis ici pour vous

                   = try to smile, you must know I am here for you

                   Toujours l'amour = love forever

                   MERDE = damn!

                   Vous imbecile = you idiot

                   C'est tres facile = it is very easy

Mais = but

                   Noir = black

                   voulez vous = would you?