At last the secret is out
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As it always must come in the end
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The delicious story is ripe to tell
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To tell to the intimate friend
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Over the tea-cups and into the square
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The tongues has its desire
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Still waters run deep, my dear
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There's never smoke without fire
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Behind the corpse in the reservoir
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Behind the ghost on the links
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Behind the lady who dances
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And the man who madly drinks
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Under the look of fatigue
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The attack of migraine and the sigh
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There is always another story
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There is more than meets the eye
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For the clear voice suddenly singing
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High up in the convent wall
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The scent of the elder bushes
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The sporting prints in the hall
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The croquet matches in summer
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The handshake, the cough, the kiss
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There is always a wicked secret
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A private reason for this
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At Last The Secret Is Out
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| Carla Bruni |
