We walk toward the wall, toward tears, anger and silence.
Death is life but I got hope, happiness is tremendous.
Better die right away than live in your own fears.
I smile amidst bitterness, my daily life is hostile.
My suburb is in tears, I abandon my world for yours,
Voices sing along in my head, since my head is spinning right1.
Still the block does not change, Mamoutou's still in jail, and
10 years from now there'll still be the crack and this blasted rhum2
The lies will remain, hidden under a fancy dress.
Memories of our love, sold out by jealousy.
The writings of an unknown person, the atrophy of passion,
the last glass of an alcoholic and the madness of poison.
Glasses of wine that made me look like a victor
while I lost my composure facing your divine stare.
Would that I loose you in the silence, if your lips could only bite my mouth,
or in the wine, you know, in the gold of its red mist.
Our thoughts burst out, we let go of the wheel
we're losing control, I don't want any excuses.
This is violent, nobody gets to play the hero.
When you keep wandering off the beaten path and end up some place else,
you rest far away from principles to avoid misfortune.
My hope is mute, the sun rises anyway,
so don't be surprised if I spit in love's eye.
Exacerbated feelings out of my head, since my heart is on strike.
Let me get high, I'll go and chase my dreams.
Glasses of wine that make me look like a victor
while I loose my composure facing your divine stare.
I like to lose myself in the silence, as your lips bite my mouth,
or in the wine, you know, in the gold of its red mist.
And then Paris, and then nothing.
Just disenchantment, memories that hurt by way of wages.
I went back to my subway and lost souls in the grip of solitude,
forgetting the weariness that crushes my brains and keeps your acquaintances busy3
We're drowning in murky waters, around the vultures of humiliation.
I seldom grant my trust, I see human beings in a trance and under pressure.
We dance, we fill our sentences with ellipses.
So goes life in our godforsaken neighbourhoods.
We take drugs, we feel low, we hang around and exhibit our bodies
At the brink of a love going in exile, there is your struggling ass4
Glasses of wine that made me look like a victor
while I lost my composure facing your divine stare.
I wanted to loose myself in the silence, wanted your lips to bite my mouth,
but I went into the wine, you know, into the gold of its red mist.
1. a rather nice pun, that can be understood as "my head is spinning (ouf of drunkenness)" or "I am in my right mind"2. "Dillon" is a common brand of Martinique rhum3. I don't really know what he means by that4. Mmmm... this line sounds really awkward and ungraceful in French