Toulouse

How far away is my country, how far away
Sometimes deep inside me
The green water of the Canal du Midi
And the red brick of the Minimes
Oh my country, oh Toulouse, oh Toulouse

I walk back to school down the avenue
My schoolbag is full of punches
Here, if you hit, you win
Here, even the grannies love a brawl
Oh my country, oh Toulouse

A torrent of stones rolls in your accent
Your violence boils up to your violets
We call each other names at the drop of a hat
There's a storm in the air and yet
The St-Sernin church lights up the evening
With a coral flower that the sun waters
Maybe that's why despite your red and black
Maybe that's why they call you the Pink City

I see your cobblestones again, oh my Gascon city
Your sidewalk torn up over the gas pipes
Is it Spain in you pushing its horn a bit
Or is there a jazz bubble in your guts?
Here is the Capitole, where I stop my steps
The stuffy tenors trembled under their cupping glasses
I still hear the echo of my father's voice
He was back then my only blues singer

Today, your skyscrapers rise high
In Blagnac, your planes are more beautiful
If one brings me back to this city
Will I still be able to see my pinch of tiles
Oh my country, oh Toulouse, oh Toulouse