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Musical: Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris
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Sons of the thief, sons of the saint Who is the child with no complaint Sons of the great or sons unknown All were children like your own The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears The cries at night, the nightmare fears Sons of the great or sons unknown All were children like your own... So long ago: long, long, ago... But sons of tycoons or sons of the farms All of the children ran from your arms Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin All of the children vanished too soon In tow'ring waves, in walls of flesh Among dying birds trembling with death Sons of tycoons or sons of the farms All of the children ran from your arms... So long ago: long, long, ago... But sons of your sons or sons passing by Children we lost in lullabies Sons of true love or sons of regret All of the sons you cannot forget Some built the roads, some wrote the poems Some went to war, some never came home Sons of your sons or sons passing by Children we lost in lullabies... So long ago: long, long, ago But, sons of the thief, sons of the saint Who is the child with no complaint Sons of the great or sons unknown All were children like your own The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears The cries at night, the nightmare fears Sons of the great or sons unknown All were children like your own... Like your own, like your own
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