by Peter Sarstedt

You talk like Marlene 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 of the Boulevard St. 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 Pines.
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit you get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs.

And when the snow falls you're found in St. 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.