"Me parle pas d’amour, j’en ai ma claque
Et j’chiale dès que j’ai bu deux trois verres.
J’suis un de tes blessés qui parle encore,
Un otage, un naufragé…
Mais j’suis à Paris avec toi.

Ouais, j’suis vénère d’m’être fait avoir,
Et j’en veux encore de toute cette merde.
Je l’avoue, j’suis en roue libre,
Et j’me fous de là où on va.
J’suis à Paris avec toi.

Ça te dérange si on zappe le Louvre,
Si on dit "merde" à Notre-Dame,
Si on ignore les Champs-Élysées
Pour rester dans ce crasseux

Vieux hôtel minable
À faire ci et ça
Avec qui, pour quoi,
À découvrir qui t’es,
À découvrir qui j’suis.

Me parle pas d’amour, parlons de Paris,
Le petit bout d’Paris qu’on voit d’ici.
Y’a cette fissure au plafond,
Les murs de l’hôtel qui s’pèlent…
Et j’suis à Paris avec toi.

Me parle pas d’amour, parlons de Paris.
J’suis à Paris dans tes moindres gestes,
Dans tes yeux, ta bouche,
J’suis à Paris… et plus bas si affinités.
J’te mets mal à l’aise ?
J’suis à Paris avec toi."

Me parle pas d’amour (Mambo)

In Paris With You by James Fenton
Don’t talk to me of love. I’ve had an earful
And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
I’m one of your talking wounded.
I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
But I’m in Paris with you.

Yes I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I’ve been through.
I admit I’m on the rebound
And I don’t care where are we bound.
I’m in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There’s that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I’m in Paris with you.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris.
I’m in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I’m in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I’m in Paris with… all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I’m in Paris with you.

I'm in Paris, Texas With You (Cowboy)

In Paris With You by James Fenton

Don’t talk to me of love. I’ve had an earful
And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
I’m one of your talking wounded.
I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
But I’m in Paris with you.

Yes I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I’ve been through.
I admit I’m on the rebound
And I don’t care where are we bound.
I’m in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There’s that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I’m in Paris with you.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris.
I’m in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I’m in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I’m in Paris with… all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I’m in Paris with you.

I'm In Paris, Texas With You (Cowgal)

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New tracks tagged #ChambreDHôtel