Ceci N Est Pas Un Chanson Lyrics

Ceci N Est Pas Un Chanson lyrics

Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard, 

But I think:


All bondage, up yours! 



Yo, this is Bran Man giving a shout
out to all the Paris suburbs, 

All the London hounds, all the New York
hound dogs, 

And the NDG, misguided. You know it. 



Ceci
n'est pas un retour aux annes 70, 

Ceci n'est pas une chanson  rpondre,


Ceci n'est pas une declaration d'amour rate 

Ceci n'est mme pas
une chanson. 



Ceci n'est pas une arbre  grimper, 

Ceci n'est
pas un hommage a mon pre, 

Ceci n'est pas ma raison d'tre, tabarnak 

Ceci est une pomme, des nuages, deux pommes, mon visage. 



Was
the night before New Year's Eve, 

I felt a curious desire for donuts, 

I dragged my sorry ass to the city of Laval, 

Where she drank from a
Tim Horton's promo cup. 

She read Paris Match by the toilet, 

Some
crap on John Holiday, 

I tried desperately to avoid it, 

But that's
when she looked my sorry-ass way. 



I say goodbye to your sorry-ass
ways, 

I say goodbye to your sorry-ass ways. 



She said the
space you stand in is not even space, 

And the music not even song, 

The sadness you see coming deep within me, 

Has been your sadness all
along. 

So don't pretend to be so perfect, 

I'm quite content in my
travelling gear. 

What you see is not just a coffee girl, 

In spite
of the fact, of the fact, that I'm not even here. 



Sounds just
like a foxfire. 



C'est en tournant les pages du plus rcent Paris
Match 

Que je me suis pos, propos cette question: 

Pourquoi? 

Pourquoi? Trois points de suspension. 

Why not, ostie. 

Why not,
ostie. 



And the snow fell like crushed aspirin, 

On that