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