elisagitane
Nouveau poète
Bohemienne.
No one knows where my story begins.
Bohemienne.
I was born on a road that bends.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Come tomorrow, I'll wander again.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hand.
When I was a child in Provence, Bare foot in the hills I danced once.
But the gypsy road is so long, the roads so long.
Everyday I see a new chance, maybe some road will lead from France.
I will follow till I come home, Till I come home.
Andalusia's streams, run through my blood, run through my daydreams.
Andalusia's sky, when it calls me, I feel my heart fly.
Bohemienne.
No one knows where my story begins.
Bohemienne.
I was born on a road that bends.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Come tomorrow I'll wander again.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hand.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hands.
No one knows where my story begins.
Bohemienne.
I was born on a road that bends.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Come tomorrow, I'll wander again.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hand.
When I was a child in Provence, Bare foot in the hills I danced once.
But the gypsy road is so long, the roads so long.
Everyday I see a new chance, maybe some road will lead from France.
I will follow till I come home, Till I come home.
Andalusia's streams, run through my blood, run through my daydreams.
Andalusia's sky, when it calls me, I feel my heart fly.
Bohemienne.
No one knows where my story begins.
Bohemienne.
I was born on a road that bends.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Come tomorrow I'll wander again.
Bohemienne, bohemienne.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hand.
Here's my fate in the lines of my hands.