Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Le Bourreau , by - Barbara. Song from the album Amours Incestueuses, in the genre ПопRelease date: 31.12.2006
Record label: Mercury
Song language: French
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Le Bourreau , by - Barbara. Song from the album Amours Incestueuses, in the genre ПопLe Bourreau(original) |
| Tendu de crêpe, au crépuscule |
| Flanqué d’un grand noir majuscule |
| Au zénith profond de minuit |
| Il avance dedans la nuit |
| Le bourreau, le bourreau |
| Moi, je le nargue lentement |
| Comme un jour d’hiver au printemps |
| Comme la toute dernière gelée |
| Sur l’avant-garde de l'été |
| Ce bourreau, ce bourreau |
| Car moi je vis, comme un printemps |
| Qui en sait peu, qui ne sait pas |
| Car moi je vis, comme un éclat |
| De feu d’amour en feu de joie |
| Et tant pis si, de temps en temps |
| Il neige un peu sur mes printemps |
| Je sais bien que, certains matins |
| Il y a des fleurs de chagrin |
| Flanqué de son grand M majuscule |
| Tendu de crêpe au crépuscule |
| Au zénith profond de mes nuits |
| Il avance dedans ma vie |
| Le bourreau, le bourreau |
| Il connaît très bien son chemin |
| Tous les chiens lui lèchent la main |
| Il connaît très bien son chemin |
| Tous les chiens lui lèchent la main |
| Au bourreau, au bourreau |
| Mais moi je vis, comme un printemps |
| Qui sait très bien, qui prends son temps |
| Mais je vis en attendant |
| Le temps qu’il me reste de temps |
| Et bien sûr, que de temps en temps |
| Il a neigé sur mes printemps |
| Mais je n’ai pas, dans mon jardin |
| Que des fleurs couleur de chagrin |
| Quand se pose le crépuscule |
| Vêtue d’un grand noir majuscule |
| Gantée d’un velours noir qui luit |
| Moi, je m’en vais vivre ma vie |
| Sans bourreau, sans bourreau |
| Tout en le narguant lentement |
| J’aurais cueilli tous mes printemps |
| J’aurais vécu d’avoir aimé |
| J’aurais tout pris, tout partagé |
| Sans bourreau, sans bourreau |
| Il peut venir au crépuscule |
| Flanqué de son M majuscule |
| Au dernier souffle de ma vie |
| Il ne prendra qu’un corps sans vie |
| Il ne prendra qu’un corps sans vie |
| Le bourreau, le bourreau, le bourreau… |
| (translation) |
| Tend de crepe, at dusk |
| Flanked by a large black capital letter |
| At the deep zenith of midnight |
| He walks in the night |
| The executioner, the executioner |
| Me, I taunt him slowly |
| Like a winter day in spring |
| Like the very last jelly |
| On the vanguard of summer |
| This executioner, this executioner |
| 'Cause I live, like a spring |
| Who knows little, who does not know |
| 'Cause I live, like a shard |
| From fire of love to fire of joy |
| And too bad if, from time to time |
| It's snowing a little on my springs |
| I know that some mornings |
| There are flowers of sorrow |
| Flanked by his capital M |
| Twilight crepe tense |
| At the deep zenith of my nights |
| He walks through my life |
| The executioner, the executioner |
| He knows his way very well |
| All the dogs lick her hand |
| He knows his way very well |
| All the dogs lick her hand |
| To the executioner, to the executioner |
| But I live, like a spring |
| Who knows very well, who takes his time |
| But I live waiting |
| The time I have left |
| And of course, that once in a while |
| It snowed on my springs |
| But I don't have, in my garden |
| Only sorrow-colored flowers |
| When twilight lands |
| Dressed in a large black capital letter |
| Gloved in shiny black velvet |
| Me, I'm going to live my life |
| Without executioner, without executioner |
| While taunting him slowly |
| I would have picked all my springs |
| I would have lived to have loved |
| I would have taken everything, shared everything |
| Without executioner, without executioner |
| He may come at dusk |
| Flanked by his capital M |
| At the last breath of my life |
| It will only take a lifeless body |
| It will only take a lifeless body |
| The executioner, the executioner, the executioner... |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Nantes | 2004 |
| Mon enfance | 1997 |
| L'aigle noir | 2017 |
| Ma plus belle histoire d'amour | 2017 |
| Ce matin-là | 2004 |
| Du bout des lèvres | 2017 |
| Si la photo est bonne | 2017 |
| Göttingen | 1997 |
| La solitude | 2016 |
| Mon Pote Le Gitan | 2019 |
| Une petite cantate | 2016 |
| Parce que je t'aime | 2016 |
| Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux | 2016 |
| Souvenance | 2014 |
| Souris Pas Tony | 2014 |
| Gauguin (Lettre A J. Brel) | 2012 |
| Les flamandes | 2016 |
| Litanies pour un retour | 2016 |
| La Femme D'hector | 2014 |
| Pauvre Martin | 2016 |