Patrick Fiori (23 September 1969-) is a French singer.

Fiori was bor… Read Full Bio ↴Patrick Fiori (23 September 1969-) is a French singer.

Fiori was born to an Armenian father (Jacques Chouchayan) and a Corsican mother (Marie Antoinette Fiori) in Marseille, France. When he was only 12 years old, he was offered his first role in the musical La légende des santonniers. At the age of 16, he recorded his first single, entitled Stéphanie. In 1993, Patrick came fourth place in the Eurovision Song Contest with the song Mama Corsica. The following year, his first album was released, entitled Puisque c'est l'heure. However, it wasn't until 1997 that Patrick's career really began to take off. His successful audition for the incredible musical Notre Dame de Paris enabled him to take on the role of the Captain, 'Phoebus'. The following year, Patrick signed a contract with Sony and recorded his 3rd album Prends Moi (Take me). Patrick finally decided to end his role in Notre Dame de Paris in the year 2000 in order to dedicate more time to his fourth album, Chrysalide. Two years after, his fifth album was released and most recently, the album Si on chantait plus fort in 2005.His 2009 new album is here. "LES CHOSES DE LA VIE".

La Boîte Aux Lettres
Patrick Fiori Lyrics

Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴

J'ai vu des papiers tomber
Comme des balles perdues
Tant de lettres anonymes
Dont on ne parle plus
J'ai vu des poussières d'anges
Qui venaient se cacher
Derrière la ligne blanche
Où ton nom est marqué

Je suis juste une fenêtre
Tout au pied de chez toi
C'est pas tous les jours la fête
Surtout en fin de mois
Qu'une feuille d'automne
Vienne un jour s'y poser
Ça n'intéresse personne
Le facteur est passé.

J'ai trouvé des pages entières
Des mots qu'on ne lit pas
De belles prisonnières
Qu'une clé délivrera
Je suis peut être
Ta boite aux lettres
Mais ça tu ne le sais pas
Car une boite aux lettres
Ça ne parle pas

J'ai vu de drôles de magazines
Des journaux défendus
Des bulletins, des fanzines
Bizarrement foutus
Je suis accusé de réception

A l'adresse indiquée
Par un coup de tampon

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Patrick Fiori's song "La Boîte Aux Lettres" talk about the mailbox as a metaphor for a person's life. The singer describes seeing papers falling like lost bullets and anonymous letters that no one talks about anymore. He also talks about dust particles that come to hide behind the white line where the recipient's name is written. In the second verse, the mailbox is personified as a window that stands at the foot of the person's home, where autumn leaves can land on it, but no one cares because the mailman has come and gone. The third verse talks about discovering hidden magazines, forbidden newspapers, and weirdly formatted brochures.

The chorus of the song reveals that the singer is the mailbox and that it may hold within itself pages filled with words that the recipient never reads. He expresses that he is the potential solution to the prisoner's dilemma, but the recipient doesn't know it. The final phrase reveals that there is an acknowledgment of the existence of the mailbox in the form of a stamped receipt to the address indicated.

Overall, the song touches on the themes of anonymity, isolation and loss. The mailbox metaphorically represents people and the life they lead. There is a sense of sadness and a longing for connection in the lyrics. It is an emotional song that makes one think about their own life and the stories they keep hidden.

Line by Line Meaning

J'ai vu des papiers tomber
I witnessed papers falling,

Comme des balles perdues
they fell like stray bullets,

Tant de lettres anonymes
So many anonymous letters,

Dont on ne parle plus
about which no one speaks anymore,

J'ai vu des poussières d'anges
I saw angelic dust,

Qui venaient se cacher
that came to hide,

Derrière la ligne blanche
behind the white line,

Où ton nom est marqué
where your name is written.

Je suis juste une fenêtre
I am just a window

Tout au pied de chez toi
at the foot of your house.

C'est pas tous les jours la fête
It's not a celebration every day,