You were the kind of high school student
A little lost and in your corner
Always sitting at the back of the classroom
Not very comfortable with yourself
Sure one's looking for oneself at that age
But youth is made for that
You took refuge in the songs
For the escape for the thrills
And then one day you discovered
The strength of Prévert's tongue
You immersed yourself in studies
To appease worries
From those who pay you rent
Like a ball to send back
Soon adolescence passed by
Always in the backpack, sciences
But your passion is writing
Spidery writing and erasures
And secretly you write your verses
Of course in Prévert's tongue
You could have languished in the office
Unwell in your clothes, unwell in your skin 1
Never to have dared
To slam the door without turning back
One day you were able to seize your chance
With the right dose of devil-may-care
Not to finish embittered and old
Tonnes of regret in the eyes
Between tenderness and anger
You sing in Prévert's tongue
And today it's your job
All planets are aligned
When you think back to the schoolboy
You would not have bet your destiny
But as your thing is music
And not their damn statistics
Whatever the sound of the moment
You walk quietly beside
And you feel free as the air
Always in Prévert's tongue
And you feel free as the air
Always in Prévert's tongue
1. In french both mean "uncomfortable with yourself"