The city is empty, the houses are orphaned. Unoccupied – the people are travelling
The wind streaks through the street and sweeps the alleys
And the Sentry on watch has left his Post
And the words with which they sold the cars
Like Love, Heart and Luck, they bring us back.
Because God himself is on holiday and we travel by rollerskates down the Motorway. Because...
Everybody is in Paris, only I am in Love. Everybody is in Paris, only I am in love.
The bank is empty, the inheritance burnt.
No more security, no money, no fear.
At this place, doing everything possible.
Suddenly I reverse, up the Heavens
The world is so beautiful from above
Everybody is in Paris, only I am in Love. Everybody is in Paris, only I am in love.
Everybody is in Paris, only I am in Love. Everybody is in Paris, only I am in love.
A stolen hour. Not yet asleep, not yet awake.
The baker and flower seller and I are accomplices in the night
And on the streetlamps sit the birds. And they call:
an hour a blue hour
Are you no longer part of the time