Thomas Fersen is a French singer-composer born in 1963 in Paris.
In… Read Full Bio ↴Thomas Fersen is a French singer-composer born in 1963 in Paris.
In his youth, he joined a punk band, before playing the piano in cafés-théatre. His first album in 1993 brought him an immediate success.
Fersen is a poet, who enjoys playing with language -he writes his lyrics exclusively in french-, using words, rhymes, symbols and images of vegetal or animal world. He tells strange and funny stories, impressions and dreams of casual life. His smoker's deep voice gives a particular tone to his songs. His musical style varies from one album to another (rock, folk, jazz and blues..).
He is one of the first who joined the Tot Ou tard/WM France label.
In… Read Full Bio ↴Thomas Fersen is a French singer-composer born in 1963 in Paris.
In his youth, he joined a punk band, before playing the piano in cafés-théatre. His first album in 1993 brought him an immediate success.
Fersen is a poet, who enjoys playing with language -he writes his lyrics exclusively in french-, using words, rhymes, symbols and images of vegetal or animal world. He tells strange and funny stories, impressions and dreams of casual life. His smoker's deep voice gives a particular tone to his songs. His musical style varies from one album to another (rock, folk, jazz and blues..).
He is one of the first who joined the Tot Ou tard/WM France label.
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Le Jour du Poisson
Thomas Fersen Lyrics
Bijou Dans les plis des rideaux Se cachent les assassins, Mais les…
Bucéphale Si ce maudit canasson Remportait cette course, Ça renflouera…
Je suis dev'nue la bonne Je suis dev'nue la bonne Tout ce mal que j'me donne Pour…
La Blatte Dans ma chambre d'hôtel Je souffle la chandelle J'entends …
Les papillons Sans attendre la quille Je sors de ma coquille Désertant l…
Les tours d'horloge Depuis ton départ, Lyon est une gare et moi je…
Ma Douceur Ô ma douceur, Je rentre à la maison L'âme et le pantalon …
Moi qui me croyais un saint Moi qui me croyais un saint Il m'est apparu Que j'ai un…
Ou Trouver Des Fleurs Un Lundi Soir Apres Minuit Comment mon coeur O trouver des fleurs Un lundi soir aprs mi…
PickPocket Dans votre dos, Sans les courbettes, Je fais ma cueillette…
Que L'on Est Bete Mon oiseau est triste, Rien d'autre n'existe Que sa trapzist…