Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Touriste D'Une Vie, artist - Paris Combo. Album song Motifs, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 10.01.2005
Record label: DRG
Song language: French
Touriste D'Une Vie(original) |
Il est parti en voyage |
L’homme de tous les instants en bagages |
Car c’est un grand baladeur de bitume |
D’une espèce peu commune |
C’est un touriste admirable |
Certes curiex mais toujours très affable |
Il est fort bien équipé |
Car chez lui, tout est jetable |
Il s’en va souvent |
Il s'égare aussi |
Dans sa vie, pas très Zanzibar, sans envie de Patagonie |
Des plaines, des blonds déserts, des récifs |
Des mers, des estuaries, des glaciers |
Attention, c’est un touriste |
Qui en a vu, des ses yeux, vu des paysages |
Etonnant, car lui n’a jamais plié bagages |
Lorsque la pluie se déchaîne |
Lui, sous le soleil, traverse une plaine |
Calme ètendue sauvageonne |
Car pour l’heure, il n’y voit personne |
Il voyage |
En solo |
Dans sa vie, pas très Zanzibar, sans envie de Patagonie |
Vers ces plaines, ces blonds déserts, ces récifs |
Ces mers, ces estuaries, ces glaciers |
A jamais, c’est un touriste |
Qui en a vu, des ses yeux, vu des paysages |
Etonnant, car lui n’a jamais plié bagages |
Mais en son for intérieur |
L’ennui l’attend pour y fonder sa demeure |
Lui parasiter ses cartes routières |
Effacer ses arrières |
Qu’il se perde, c’est vrai |
Qu’il s’y retrouve aussi |
Dans sa vie, pas très Zanzibar, sans envie de Patagonie |
(translation) |
He went on a trip |
The man of all times in luggage |
'Cause it's a big bitumen walkman |
Of an uncommon species |
He's an admirable tourist |
Certainly curious but still very affable |
He is very well equipped |
Because at home, everything is disposable |
He goes away often |
He also wanders |
In his life, not very Zanzibar, no desire for Patagonia |
Plains, blond deserts, reefs |
Seas, estuaries, glaciers |
Watch out, he's a tourist |
Who has seen, with his eyes, seen landscapes |
Surprising, because he never packed up |
When the rain is raging |
He, under the sun, crosses a plain |
Quiet Wilderness |
Because for the time being, he sees no one there |
He travels |
Alone |
In his life, not very Zanzibar, no desire for Patagonia |
Towards these plains, these blond deserts, these reefs |
These seas, these estuaries, these glaciers |
Forever, he's a tourist |
Who has seen, with his eyes, seen landscapes |
Surprising, because he never packed up |
But deep inside |
Boredom awaits him to make his home there |
Interfere with his road maps |
Erase his back |
Let him get lost, it's true |
That he also finds himself there |
In his life, not very Zanzibar, no desire for Patagonia |