paroles de chanson You're The Top - Dionne Warwick
At
words
poetic,
I′m
so
pathetic
That
I
always
have
found
it
best,
Instead
of
getting
'em
off
my
chest,
To
let
′em
rest
unexpressed.
I
hate
parading
my
serenading
As
I'll
probably
miss
a
bar,
But
if
this
ditty
is
not
so
pretty,
At
least
it'll
tell
you
how
great
you
are.
You′re
the
top!
You′re
the
Colosseum,
You're
the
top!
You′re
the
Louvre
Museum,
You're
a
melody
from
a
symphony
by
Strauss,
You′re
a
Bendel
bonnet,
a
Shakespeart
sonnet,
You're
Mickey
Mouse.
You′re
the
Nile,
You're
the
Tow'r
of
Pisa,
You′re
the
smile
on
the
Mona
Lisa.
I′m
a
worthless
check,
a
total
wreck,
a
flop,
But
if,
Baby,
I'm
the
bottom,
You′re
the
top!
Your
words
poetic
are
not
pathetic
On
the
other
hand,
boy,
you
shine
And
I
can
feel
after
every
line
A
thrill
divine
down
my
spine.
Now
gifted
humans
like
Vincent
Youmans
Might
think
that
your
song
is
bad,
But
for
a
person
who's
just
rehearsin′
Well
I
gotta
say
this
my
lad:
You're
the
top!
You′re
Mahatma
Ghandi.
You're
the
top!
You're
Napolean
brandy.
You′re
the
purple
light
of
a
summer
night
in
Spain,
You′re
the
National
Gall'ry,
You′re
Garbo's
sal′ry,
You're
cellophane.
You′re
sublime,
You're
a
turkey
dinner.
You're
the
time
of
the
Derby
winner.
I′m
a
toy
balloon
that
is
fated
soon
to
pop.
But
if,
Baby,
I′m
the
bottom,
You're
the
top!
You′re
the
top!
You're
a
Ritz
hot
toddy.
You′re
the
top!
You're
a
Brewster
body.
You′re
the
boats
that
glide
on
the
sleepy
Zuider
Zee,
You're
a
Nathan
Panning,
You're
Bishop
Manning,
You′re
broccoli.
You′re
a
prize,
You're
a
night
at
Coney,
You′re
the
eyes
of
Irene
Bordoni,
I'm
a
broken
doll,
a
fol-de-rol,
a
blop,
But
if,
Baby,
I′m
the
bottom,
You're
the
top.
You′re
the
top!
You're
an
Arrow
collar.
You're
the
top!
You′re
a
Coolidge
dollar.
You′re
the
nimble
tread
of
the
feet
of
Fred
Astaire,
You're
an
O′Neill
drama,
You're
Whistler′s
mama,
You're
Camembert.
You′re
a
rose,
You're
Inferno's
Dante,
You′re
the
nost
of
the
great
Durante.
I′m
just
in
the
way,
as
the
French
would
say
"De
trop,"
But
if,
Baby,
I'm
the
bottom,
You′re
the
top.
You're
the
top!
You′re
a
Waldorf
salad.
You're
the
top!
You′re
a
Berlin
ballad.
You're
a
baby
grand
of
a
lady
and
a
gent.
You're
an
old
dutch
master,
You′re
Mrs.
Aster,
You′re
Pepsodent.
You're
romance,
You′re
the
steppes
of
Russia,
You're
the
pants
on
a
Roxy
usher.
I′m
a
lazy
lout
that's
just
about
to
stop,
But
if
Baby,
I′m
the
bottom,
You're
the
top!
You're
the
top!
You′re
a
dance
in
Bali.
You′re
the
top!
You're
a
hot
tamale.
You′re
an
angel,
you
simply
too,
too,
too
divine,
You're
a
Botticelli,
You′re
Keats,
You're
Shelley,
You′re
Ovaltine.
You're
a
boon,
You're
the
dam
at
Boulder,
You′re
the
moon
over
Mae
West′s
shoulder.
I'm
a
nominee
of
the
G.O.P.
or
GOP,
But
if,
Baby,
I′m
the
bottom,
You're
the
top!
You′re
the
top!
You're
the
Tower
of
Babel.
You′re
the
top!
You're
the
Whitney
Stable.
By
the
River
Rhine,
You're
a
sturdy
stein
of
beer,
You′re
a
dress
from
Saks′s,
You're
next
year′s
taxes,'
You′re
stratosphere.
You're
my
thoist,
You′re
a
Drumstick
Lipstick,
You're
the
foist
in
the
Irish
svipstick,
I'm
a
frightened
frog
that
can
find
no
log
to
hop,
But
if,
Baby,
I′m
the
bottom,
You′re
the
top!
Attention! N'hésitez pas à laisser des commentaires.