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The manager of the big hotel in your town
This morning, didn't speak quietly enough
He said, scornfully, to a timid doorman
"The acrobat's luggage at 523"
Bohemian, bastard, chance mercenary
Almost black musician
Bohemian, bastard, chance mercenary
I'm coming for you tonight
Bring you news
From the land of songs
Where will your heart fly
Tonight I'm going to sing
For you, for this doorman
And for this director
If one fine day he cries
To not be loved
Or to be despised
Or to be precisely
Only what it is
Bohemian, bastard, chance mercenary
Almost black musician
Bohemian, bastard, chance mercenary
I'm coming for you tonight
Bring you news
From the land of songs
Where will your heart fly
Tonight I'm going to sing
Without being able to distinguish
This brave director
From the last of the servers
Let him know that I know
That at the bottom of his vest
He has, as a heart
A big pebble
A big pebble
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