We took the train from Paris
Everybody there spoke French
It's the painter's and the poet's mother tongue
We sat back in the carriage
With brie and a baguette
And headed for a short break in the sun
We hired a Renault Clio
Just like Papa and Nicole
Drove all the way to the Plage de Piémanson
Fifty clicks from Saintes-Maries
A hundred mobile homes
Lined up like nuclear driftwood on the shore
And the world threw down a summer (The sun and the wind)
You can feel the breath of heaven on your bones
Throw back the shutter (The wind and the sun)
And sing with les cigales d'Avignon
They love a tree-lined avenue
Everywhere you go in France
It's an honour guard that marched us to Uzès
In the squares they play the rumba
And every man's a prince
And we drank a beer or two but I digress
Lussan's a floating island in the sea of the Cevennes
I could feel the foothills calling me to come back home again
They say that if you slow down
The sound of the cicada
You can hear a monkish choir singing low
A hundred thousand insects
A hundred thousand martyrs
A hundred thousand transmigrated souls
Thursday's Band - Les Cigales D'avignon Lyrics
Thursday's Band - Les Cigales D'avignon Lyrics
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We took the train from Paris
Everybody there spoke French
It's the painter's and the poet's mother tongue
We sat back in the carriage
With brie and a baguette
And headed for a short break in the sun
We hired a Renault Clio
Just like Papa and Nicole
Drove all the way to the Plage de Piémanson
Fifty clicks from Saintes-Maries
A hundred mobile homes
Lined up like nuclear driftwood on the shore
And the world threw down a summer (The sun and the wind)
You can feel the breath of heaven on your bones
Throw back the shutter (The wind and the sun)
And sing with les cigales d'Avignon
They love a tree-lined avenue
Everywhere you go in France
It's an honour guard that marched us to Uzès
In the squares they play the rumba
And every man's a prince
And we drank a beer or two but I digress
Lussan's a floating island in the sea of the Cevennes
I could feel the foothills calling me to come back home again
They say that if you slow down
The sound of the cicada
You can hear a monkish choir singing low
A hundred thousand insects
A hundred thousand martyrs
A hundred thousand transmigrated souls
Everybody there spoke French
It's the painter's and the poet's mother tongue
We sat back in the carriage
With brie and a baguette
And headed for a short break in the sun
We hired a Renault Clio
Just like Papa and Nicole
Drove all the way to the Plage de Piémanson
Fifty clicks from Saintes-Maries
A hundred mobile homes
Lined up like nuclear driftwood on the shore
And the world threw down a summer (The sun and the wind)
You can feel the breath of heaven on your bones
Throw back the shutter (The wind and the sun)
And sing with les cigales d'Avignon
They love a tree-lined avenue
Everywhere you go in France
It's an honour guard that marched us to Uzès
In the squares they play the rumba
And every man's a prince
And we drank a beer or two but I digress
Lussan's a floating island in the sea of the Cevennes
I could feel the foothills calling me to come back home again
They say that if you slow down
The sound of the cicada
You can hear a monkish choir singing low
A hundred thousand insects
A hundred thousand martyrs
A hundred thousand transmigrated souls
Writer: Mark Gamon
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid