Les Hommes Qui Passent
Patricia Kaas
The Men Who Pass By
The men who pass by, Mom,
Always send me postcards
From the Bahamas, Mom,
The men who pass by all the time,
Are musicians, painters, or actors,
Often.
The men who pass by, Mom,
Always offer me a nice room
With a balcony, Mom,
The men who pass by, I feel
That they have their hearts low tide, craving the ocean.
The men who pass by, though,
How I wish I could steal one
For a month, for a year,
The men who pass by, Mom,
Never give me anything but money.
The men who pass by, Mom,
Their nights of love are stars
That leave their marks, Mom,
The men who pass by, so intense,
Are always the ones who’ve kept
A child’s heart, losing.
The men who pass by, though,
How I wish I could steal one
For a month, for a year,
The men who pass by, Mom,
Never give me anything but money.
The men who pass by, Mom,
Have smiles that are a bit
Like grimaces, Mom,
The men who pass by, so unsettling,
Always leave me with my dreams
And my old anxieties.
The men who pass by, though,
How I wish I could steal one
For a month, for a year,
The men who pass by, Mom,
Never give me anything but money.
The men who pass by, Mom...
The men who pass by, Mom...
The men who pass by, though...
The men who pass by, Mom.
