AMERICANA
Words and music: E. Bulling, K. Wakefield, Has. Costandinos, on 1981
Americana it is a word which splits at night
Americana it is a little dream and madness
Americana it is a word which speaks about giant
Americana has the rage of fury in black and white
The plane lands in silence,
As a seagull which comes from France
On the city which drowses, the shade of a statue it awakens
Of the grey sky of Atlantic, in the sun burning with Pacific
It is an island which wanders
A scum up to the nice middle of the world
Americana, Americana
It is America, that makes dream
Americana, Americana,
Play your music make me dance
Manhattan, hundredth floor
Hung the heart in clouds
When San-Francisco panic
At the rhythms of the loves which fly away
One drunk of music
On words often melancholic
Las-Vegas and its machines
And its daughters taken out from magazines
Americana, Americana
It is America, that makes dream
Americana, Americana,
Play your music make me dance
Americana it is a word which splits at night
Americana it is a bit of dream and madness
Americana it is a word which speaks about giant
Americana has the rage of fury in black and white
And me who am besides of no one from here leave
I often remake the voyage, this voyage
Since I saw America
These beaches with the perfumes of Acapulco
Plunged avenues with the numbers
And its boulevards longer than from cities
These quarters who speaks in Italian
Restaurants Chinese or Parisian
Where each can rediscovers his little countries
Americana it is a word which splits at night
Americana it is a little dream and madness
Americana it is a word which speaks about giant
Americana has the rage of food in black and white
Americana, Americana
It is America, that makes dream
Americana, Americana,
Play your music make me dance
Americana it is a word which speaks about giant
Americana has the rage of fury in black and white
Americana it is a little dream and madness
Americana it is a word which bangs at night.
Tags: dalida alec costandinos americana
