My head was in the clouds and I was all around
In the blossom of youth
So I look from the roofs of Paris
As my bicycle flew down the avenue
My heart did sing
Because you given me wings, wouoh

Paris, may we agree that you can ()
Be my Papa
I was born in the arms of your sacred heart, wouoh

Paris, may we agree, you have () me
That you my papa
I was born in your arms, (), wouoh

All alone as [bad word] in a trolley car
I can never be found
From your belle boulevard, wouoh...