Here in Paris, it's late, the asphalt reflects the headlights
At the bottom of the thermostate we get a tan in a postcard
Long time ago in my young age
I used to think that factories were making the clouds
Is drinking water cancerous?
Nights in the hospital would become expensive
They say that people don't like to talk in cities
That they come to live as a thousand per square metre
Each in his cube, get old there, in the tentacles of loneliness
North sun, north sun
North sun at the second semester
Bad weather insists and the clown throws himself out of the window
One more day without shadow
When the star is at its zenith1
My city a fabric that's been sewn on the outlines
Spring makes us wild
At the first ray we dive in without a beach
We wait for the summer to cram in with others
These southern people with warm accents
We don't share the same horizons
To live yours we contribute
I'd like to see you all there, running through shanty towns
Dreaming of ivory towers where you raise your daughter
North sun, north sun
Crowded family with just one salary
It's seeing the 20-year-old mother and 19 summers of agony
Winter lasts for 3 seasons
40 years of credit the pretty house
Jackpot grows each week
Times get more tough
Friends don't have cigarettes anymore
Stuck tight in horrible jeans
Between the future and our origins
At the end it's going well in France2
We look for strings in ropes
We refrain from any advice
It seems to me that misery would be less painful under the Sun...
1. Zenith: the highest point of a star. For ex: at noon, the Sun is at its zenith.2. France is called "L'Hexagone" at times due to its shape on the European map.