Peter Sarstedt - Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) ? - Live 1998

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  • ΠžΠΏΡƒΠ±Π»ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ²Π°Π½ΠΎ: 8 янв 2017
  • Live bei den Songs an einem Sommerabend 1998
    VΓ– auf dem Album (LP) "Peter Sarstedt" 1969
    This video is for entertainment purposes only.
    Please support artists by buying their music.
    Bitte unterstΓΌtzen Sie die KΓΌnstler durch den Kauf ihrer Musik.
    Lyrics:
    You talk like Marlène Dietrich
    And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
    Your clothes are all made by Balmain
    And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are
    You live in a fancy apartment
    Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
    Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
    And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do
    But where do you go to my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    Tell me the thoughts that surround you
    I want to look inside your head, yes I do
    I've seen all your qualifications
    You got from the Sorbonne
    And the painting you stole from Picasso
    Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does
    When you go on your summer vacation you go to Juan-les-Pins
    With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
    You get an even sun tan, on your back and on your legs
    When the snow falls you're found in Saint Moritz
    With the others of the jet-set
    And you sip your Napoleon brandy
    But you never get your lips wet, no you don't
    But where do you go to my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you
    I want to look inside your head, yes I do
    Your name, it is heard in high places
    You know the Aga Khan
    He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
    And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh ahaha
    They say that when you get married
    It'll be to a millionaire
    But they don't realise where you came from
    And I wonder if they really care or give a damn
    Where do you go to my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    Tell me the thoughts that surround you
    I want to look inside your head, yes I do
    I remember the back streets of Naples
    Two children begging in rags
    Both touched with a burning ambition
    To shake off their lowly born tags, and they try
    So look into my face, Marie-Claire
    And remember just who you are
    Then go and forget me forever
    But I know you still bear the scar deep inside, yes you do
    I know where you go to my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    I know the thoughts that surround you
    Cause I can look inside your head
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