Mon pote le gitan

And when she travels never stops.

A lot of landscapes come out of his eyes.

My friend the gypsy is a curious guy.

My friend the gypsy is no fun.

And in our bar no one understands.

Like all these guys, he's got his guitar.

A filthy guitar that sticks to you in the dark.

When he starts playing the old wagon.

Rides around in his head, the ball players.

Stop and nothing hurts your teeth.

My friend the gypsy is no fun.

My friend the gypsy one day left.

And God only knows where he lives.

This guy here was a great musician.

I knew it. I knew it.

The boss told me he came to get him.

A great bandole wanted to buy it.

My friend the gypsy said no.

A shrug and he split.

I felt like I was losing a friend.

And yet this guy never told me anything.

But he left me a corner of his trailer.

And in my little head I've got a dream that runs.

His funny music in me stayed.

When I think of him I sometimes sing.

You damn gypsy who smelled like a cockroach.

Deep down your music was full of hope.