Woorden:
Accordion Chanson

boulot s'acheve Elle s'en va a son tour Chercher un peu de reve Dans un bal du faubourg Son homme est un artiste C'est un drole de petit gars Un accordeoniste

Three wasted years, standing still As you opened up, eighteen miles wide On this country drive I can't keep up 'Cause you're so far gone And it's all

You tried all 13 channels but they burned me out again 'Cause it's over when, whenever they say I quit sending postcards 'cause no one knew what to [Incomprehensible

Think you caught me on the downslide, downturn I was busy writing with a pen and paper thin dream And all your plastic people with plastic hearts and

That's incentive You see nothing to be adored when obsession takes it's toll You can't place you in between the pages of fashion magazines Paper cuts

Holding fast until the rent checks wear thin Because it hasn't sunk in so far Well, it's a drab routine, the dust starts building Until it's hard to come

Leaving the central states for shallow ground Home in the valley but the rent's paid south You said the urn was half full when I said it was half empty

Believe in me, I'm sad and blue Left with nothing but a picture Third or fourth weekend in June December seems to come too soon Will you wait until tomorrow

Every town has a diner, where I'll meet you and your friends, too. Things are just a bit nicer over some coffee. You can tell me all about your day. I