| The road is a long ribbon
|
| Who parades who parades
|
| And get lost endlessly
|
| Far from the cities, far from the cities
|
| The driver behind the wheel
|
| who is hectic who is hectic
|
| Never ever have time
|
| To look at the firmament
|
| The day rises and falls
|
| On the winding road
|
| He must push his machine
|
| 'Cause that's where his factory is
|
| Ignoring the other roads
|
| Who wander off
|
| The driver never has time
|
| To get lost in the fields
|
| If you want to live long
|
| Watch your steering wheel
|
| Because the road defends itself
|
| If you dream for a moment
|
| Under the tender spring grass
|
| The embankment is engaging
|
| But it's the gap that awaits you
|
| If you fall asleep at the wheel
|
| If you see on the horizon
|
| Mirages, mirages
|
| It's time to pay attention
|
| Because there are sacred turns
|
| From time to time there are towns
|
| We sleep there everything is quiet
|
| You wake them up by the way
|
| In your screaming big truck
|
| The buddy in his bunk
|
| Dream above your head
|
| If time seems long to you
|
| Light a cigarette
|
| Every day of the week
|
| And in any weather
|
| Your road is always the same
|
| To deliver your load
|
| If you want to live long
|
| Watch your steering wheel
|
| Because the road defends itself
|
| If you dream for a moment
|
| Under the tender spring grass
|
| The embankment is engaging
|
| But it's the gap that awaits you
|
| If you fall asleep at the wheel
|
| The road is a long ribbon
|
| Who parades who parades
|
| And get lost endlessly
|
| Far from the cities, far from the cities
|
| The driver behind the wheel
|
| who is hectic who is hectic
|
| Never ever have time
|
| To get lost in the fields |