Version alternative sans pizzicato. Champêtre, léger & insouciant. ...Version alternative sans pizzicato. Champêtre, léger & insouciant. Orchestre avec bois.
Paroles ... Modern, warm & sentimental Latin folk, sung in Spanish. Female ...Modern, warm & sentimental Latin folk, sung in Spanish. Female singer, Spanish guitar, female choirs, synths, minimal electronic elements & Latin percussion.
Cogí una fruta madura,cogí una fruta madura.te la quería regalar,te la quería regalar. Ay ayúdame Mamita,ayudarme Mamacita,ya no me puedo bajar,ya no me puedo bajar, Mama Uuu MamaUuu Mama Cogí la fruta mas alta,cogí la fruta mas alta,yo te la quería entregar,yo te la quería entregar. Ay ayúdame Mamita, ayudarme Mamacita,ya no me puedo bajar,ya no me puedo bajar, Mama ! Uu ayúdame MamaUu MamaUu ayúdame MamaUu Mama Me quiero bajar MamaMe quiero bajar Mama Tu no me queres mirar, la fruta mas alta es,Ayudame Mama pue', ayudame Mama pue', Mama Uu ayudame Mama Ayudame Mama pue'Ayudame Mama pue' Uuu MamaUuu Ayudame Mama MamaMamaMamaMama
Enchanting composition that accompanies the beginning of a romantic ...Enchanting composition that accompanies the beginning of a romantic evening. Beautiful, magical, cinematic.
Moving orchestral theme for images of great spaces, untouched nature ...Moving orchestral theme for images of great spaces, untouched nature and the beginning of mystical adventures.
Sweet and innocent, this playful little waltz recalls untouched flora ...Sweet and innocent, this playful little waltz recalls untouched flora and fauna.
Paroles ... Chanson country/folk avec une touche bluegrass. Confiant & ...Chanson country/folk avec une touche bluegrass. Confiant & entrainant. Chanteuse, guitare folk, mandoline, fiddle & basse électrique. Banjo @ 1'35.
Gotta keep on movingGotta find a way to get close to youHelp me keep on moving, gottastay on my feet if I wanna get close to youI’m not bad at moving, when I gotta,And I just don’t know what else to do Gotta keep my head up, everyNow and then look up to the skyBeen so low I don’t recall what the Leaves on the trees look likeI’m doing my best,But won’t you help me with the rest Oh while I’m still breathing I’m moving fastIf you want me to stayYou gotta ask If only I could love youI would spend all night getting close to youIf only I could love you I would Be the one you could call yoursOh it sounds so pretty, But if I don’t show you know I’m so unsure Oh while I’m still breathing I’m moving fastIf you want me to stay You gotta ask I won’t say it won’t work if youSay you’ll do the same Hold myself still,StopAnd get myself to stayBut every time I tryYou just slip off to the sideAnd I keep moving Oh while I’m still breathing I’m moving fastIf you want me to stayYou gotta ask x2
Let my eyes keep on roamingAs you look the other wayIn the end you know I’m not goingSo we’ll just stay the same Straight past me and straight aheadAs you tell me what you think I needYou haven’t heard a word I’ve saidJust rehearsed lines that you feed me Stay with me in silence I’m trying to tell you what I’m missingAs you tell me nothing is wrongBut how can you see when you don’t listenLook ahead and move along Stay with me in silenceStay with me, but leave me in silence
Paroles ... Chanson folk dans un esprit old time. Chanteuse, guitare, basse ...Chanson folk dans un esprit old time. Chanteuse, guitare, basse électrique, mandoline & harmonium.
You say write me a song that’s never been sungOh I’ll do my best with theserecycled expressions on the tip of my tonguetired out chords, give it a rest My mama said no one’s the sameand her mama told her that toowell I guess it’s not an unfair claimbut all I know is deja vu Because it’s old news, I hate to break it to yaOld news, but I’m sure you already knowThat what I say tomorrowwell it’s just something borrowedIt’s old news But nobody’s got a love like we doSo much more than hearts and glitterNo you just can’t compare us toThose other couples you see on twitter…No, it’s really not, it’s I know it may seem redundant But really why would I try?Because though words may be abundantEach one’s been wrung out dry We’re all just looking for greased moldsTo slide easily intoAnd do what you’re told they don’t care what you’ve been throughAfter all, somebody somewhereHas known what you’ve knownSeen what you’ve seenFelt what you’ve felt
And now it’s Old news, I hate to break it to youOld news, but I’m sure you already know That what I say tomorrowWell it’s just something borrowedIt’s old news Hate to break it to youOld news, but I’m sure you already know That what I say tomorrowwell it’s just something borrowedIt’s old news
Underscore. Folk dans un esprit old time. Guitare, basse électrique, ...Underscore. Folk dans un esprit old time. Guitare, basse électrique, mandoline & harmonium.
I’ve been down and under don’t know what’s going onI’ve been down and under don’t know what I’m doing wrongAin’t no use in trying to get back up on my feet‘cause I’ve been down and under so long Heard from my baby yesterdayhe said that he’s doing fineheard from my baby yesterdayhe said he’s doing fineso damn hard to hear him smile I nearly lost my mind‘cause I’ve been down and under so long Been looking for good companyto help me clear my headI’ve been looking for good company to help me clear my headOne more night by my own side won’t get me out of bed‘cause I’ve been down and under so long They told me just to wait it outthese blues will come and gotold me just to wait it outthese blues will come and gobut days keep getting colder and the sun don’t seem to show‘cause I’ve been down and under so long I’ve been down and under don’t know what’s going onI’ve been down and under don’t know what I’m doing wrongAin’t no use in trying to get back up on my feet‘cause I’ve been down and under so long
ParisT'as l'palpitant à Notre-DameMais l'Amour c'est rue d'AmsterdamQu'on l'achète, pour des picaillons,Mêm' à c'prix là parfois c'est bon ParisT'as la tête au creux des nuagesLa Tour Eiffel et trois étagesQui scintillent quand arriv' le soirDès fois qu'tu vois tout trop en noir ParisT'as les pieds au bord de la SeineOù s'noie l’chagrin quand t’as d’la peineSous des vagues de mélancolieAu son des orgu' de Barbarie ParisT’as les esgourd' qu’ont des bouchonsA caus' de la circulationT’as plus vingt berges et dans ta voixQuand tu gamberges ça n’est plus toi
ParisT'as les poumons dans l' Bois d'VincennesDans l’Bois d'Boulogne des phénomènesQui respirent un parfum d’amour Qui ne durera pas toujours
ParisDans tes veines y a l'métro qui ramePour écouler tous les quidamsQui s'serrent les coudes au p'tit matinPour s'faufiler jusqu'au turbin ParisT’as les tripes au Quartier LatinQuand vient l’mois d’Mai et dans la mainTu tiens l'fusil ou bien l' canonA l'heur' de la Révolution ParisY a tes peintres qui t'font des couleursDes piqu'assiettes qui n'ont pas peurD'impressionner dans les salonsTime is Monet ou Valadon ParisT'as tant d'amour dans tes chansonsQu'parfois on en perd la raisonQu'on se les siffle à tout bout d'champEt parfois mêm' aux enterr'ments
English translation :
PARIS ParisYour heart is in Notre DameBut love, it’s in rue d’AmsterdamWhere you buy it for peanuts ParisYour head is nestled in the cloudsThe Eiffel Tower and its three storiesWhich sparkle as night fallsIf ever you looking on the dark side ParisYour feet on the bank of the SeineWhere sadness drowns when you’re in painUnder waves of melancholyTo the sound of the barrel organ Paris,Your ears are blockedBecause of the trafficYou’re no longer twenty and in your voiceI you think about itIt’s no longer you ParisYour lungs are in the Bois de VincennesAnd in the Bois de Boulogne these creaturesWho breeze a perfume of loveWhich will not last forever ParisIn your veins there’s the metro striving To circulate your populationCrushed together in the early morningOn their way to work ParisYour guts are in the Latin QuarterWhen the month of May comes aroundPistol in your hand or even the canonAt the hour of the Revolution ParisPainters fill you with coloursScroungers
unafraidTo make an impression in the salonsTime is Monet or Valadon ParisSo much love in your songsSometimes loosing our heads in themWhistling them at every turnAnd sometimes even at funerals
