I'm always looking for thrills on my skin
My eyes that close
And my voice that fades with my brain
Adrenaline and its palpitations
Danger is naive, it comes full on
I'm looking for fear because I'm afraid to live
An excess of inaction
But yet, and yet, I can't stand the sight of blood anymore
Too often, too often I regret

Me, the child of the desert who wanted to make his father proud
It was with a smile and tears of joy
That I announced to him that his son had become a soldier
He took me in his arms
For the first time my mother was also crying
Her eyes scratched by the cold of the room
Were moved to see the man she loved, like this
She was afraid, without wanting to upset me
She kept repeating
That wanting to serve one's country was just nonsense

I'm always looking for thrills on my skin
My eyes that close
And my voice that fades with my brain
Adrenaline and its palpitations
Danger is naive, it comes full on
I'm looking for fear because I'm afraid to live
An excess of inaction
But yet, and yet, I can't stand the sight of blood anymore
Too often, too often I regret

6 o'clock in the morning, I made my bed as quickly as possible
I'm hallucinating, no time to eat that I'm already running in the forest
A bag of I don't know how many kilos on my back
I can only think of deserting
I can't take it anymore, I feel guilty for not listening to myself
I would like to play the guitar
Quiet at home, but no, I'm here
I just got out of a month in the hole
Because I lost my soul one night on guard
Sad, completely depressed, I had confided in my father
With the hope that he would spare me, but no

I'm always looking for thrills on my skin
My eyes that close
And my voice that fades with my brain
Adrenaline and its palpitations
Danger is naive, it comes full on
I'm looking for fear because I'm afraid to live
An excess of inaction
But yet, and yet, I can't stand the sight of blood anymore
Too often, too often I regret

Since then, I call my mother from Mali
Who admits to me, with a dry throat, that she follows the news
While usually, my parents don't care
But well, they ask about me
News rather brief
Because she doesn't know what's going through my head
Even though I think she suspects
You know, maternal instinct
This morning in Timbuktu, city of the Niger River
The rebels fired hundreds and hundreds of bullets
I was scared, then for a moment I went elsewhere
My ear was ringing after a grenade exploded
While I was escorting a small family home
The aunt was hit in the lower back
She won't walk anymore, I'm angry, I feel the need to go home
To read the travels of Sylvain Tesson
Hang out in the bars of Orleans and find my home
Near the Loire, every night, without exception
Find my home, near the Loire
Every night, without exception

I'm always looking for thrills on my skin
My eyes that close
And my voice that fades with my brain
Adrenaline and its palpitations
Danger is naive, it comes full on
I'm looking for fear because I'm afraid to live
An excess of inaction
But yet, and yet, I can't stand the sight of blood anymore
Too often, too often I regret

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