LEIF VOLLEBEKK

YOU COULDN’T LIE TO ME IN PARIS

You couldn’t lie to me in Paris
No, you wouldn’t want to embarrass
Yourself in front of the fathers of the fellas
Who’d raise their eyebrow umbrellas
Never one for a fuss
Unless it is just the two of us
We started getting into trouble, you see
When we started loving in degrees
The coming and going spirit’s in the doorhinges
And I’m sitting peeling Suzanne’s oranges
Nothing I ever do is ever good enough for escaping
The love that we’ve been making
What I put into question, you put into bed
Just like you put those wicked thoughts into my head
When are you leaving town?
The sight of you makes me teary-eyed
Your body’s been honest
But here again it lies

So I’m going to that city saved by paper and not soul
Which judging by those standards could’ve been a letter that you wrote

Sur ce, très chère, adieu. Voilà trop causer
Le temps que l’on perd à lire une missive
N’aura jamais valu la peine qu’on l’écrive
(Oh, tes paupières parapluies)