Prévert's Song
PrĂ©vertâs SongA Serge Gainsbourg song Oh, I wish you still remembered, my dear,That Indian summer, golden and severe,When life was beautiful beyond compare,And the sun burned hotter than it does out there. There was a song you used to softly sing,A song by PrĂ©vert â melancholy thing,The Autumn Leaves â your voice would fill the air,And Iâd stand still, lost somewhere in your stare. The deadâŠ











