Un beau jour pour mourir [English translation]

I look as if I'm elsewhere, hardly bothers me

Because I don't care, holy providence always has foresight

So then, in the wilderness of the city,

I roam on mint spirits, deca decadently

I hope no doubt to become rich and enjoy the relaxation

Without cieling lighting with asbestos, formerly

Like a poor dervish, I used to whirl upon myself.

Let the door not be closed, do not look to escape

Today is, so, a great day to die.

[I look] Like an idiot; nevertheless I'm not dumb

But I love to deceive all of you, because it doesn't matter

If I don't have any retinue, I operate from Trône* to the Fair.

I take off and escape, electric escalators,

raincoat and sunglases

Without artificial resentment, because I saw the beautiful black sky

Like a sad dervish, it whirled upon itself.

Don't make a fuss, and let me come

It's, there's nothing to do about it, a great day to die.

A great day to die.

I have monochrome life syndrome,

comfortable wearing my pair of Clarks,

I have played out my role, I looked for your shoulder

from Fez to the Place de la Contrescarpe

While whirling upon my self, I went on, regardless

While whirling upon my self

The people don't care, the sun shines

The people suspect, but no-one says anything

The people suspect, without bias

Busy under the arches

Because they only love what shines

They whirl upon themselves

They whirl upon themselves