In a city where no one believes in God anymore
Perhaps because it leaves us frozen half the year
At least two thousand, without the sun
Dreaming of heat and the country Huichol
When spring comes
All the people go outside
A chelita on a terrace
As if time no longer existed
To forget winter in la pelouse
Opening the shirt to practice the cruze
That's like the bicycle, you don't forget
Day 2 of the weekend
It's Sunday in Montreal
Nothing in the world can put me wrong
Let's get together with friends
Drink some chelas and have barbecues
In the Mountains
(Verse 2)
From afar you can hear the percussions
The people go out on their balconies
To prepare the holy party
Then heading to the mountain park
On the soccer field: Africans
With Arabs and Latin-Americans
The Brazilians, with Capoeira
And Dominicans on the ball court
The Haitians already sewing the ribs
Under the Quebecois sun that warms the cribs
Epicurian debauchery
We have been liberated for a long time now
In Montréal Sunday is sacred!
Ay My God bless my mountain!
And open the way for the immigrant
In this land of independent girls
May their love taste like what you want
Tell me what you want craving on this day
And it is possible that it will be done in a hurry
There is everything here, except the Expos
Go to him and send me a text

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