BOBSINCLAIR.

Paris,is the city,and the right place to be. January,almost snowing,Place Vendome,and my phone starts singing "Love generation" by Bob Sinclair. Tu,turu,tururururu,be the love generation,yeah,yeah,yeah,c'mun,c'mun. You've got a sexy voice,and you start laughing,my half trembling voice answers,again your sexy voice,and the conversation goes on. And the feeling of knowing that there is at least one possibilitty,in a billion,that If I turn my head I find you,or that If I continue down the street you might be there,makes me wanna jump,and so I did ,I jumped,and an old lady who was in Cartier,turned and made a dissaproving face.And I knew she was just full of jelousy,because she wasnt in the same city as I was,she didnt have the guts to jump in the middle of la place Vendome,and that ring she was buying was just horrible. Be the love generation yeah yeah yeah