Oh well, yeah
Ok

It doesn't look like much anymore, there
2014, I'm in the boss's office, I'm watching the clock talk to me
He tells me that we need to bring in paper, perfect
A big joint of weed to anticipate the boredom
On TV they're laughing loudly, I'd like to participate too
They say "success, it's harmful"
The routine, the clouds, the Tupperware of pasta
The shopping bags on the mopeds
The raindrops on the eyelids
And the sky crying for peanuts, isn't that harmful?

What's better, in the end?
Crumpled bill in the lining of the Quechua
Blue in a Vittel, red in the eyes and brown in the joint
Oh well, yeah

I rekindle the flame, I look up
Basically, we're not supposed to win
In my head, I'm not supposed to lose

But I'm the same kid
Dreams in the eyes, tissues in the pocket
Joint in the helmet and in the beak
Look is glassy, brain is opaque but we say "ok"
And the cold makes holes in my hands
The smoke makes holes in my memories (oh well, yeah)
I have no regrets if I don't remember anything
I won't miss much if I prevent myself from living
We discovered booze
We didn't understand the risks
I probably wouldn't be here if my father had bought condoms

Cards on the table, next to the balls and the corpses of bottles
I'm not telling my life for Mireille's big pussy
But for my grandmother's ass in a Fly Emirates, Khlass
By the way, knowing the handicap is a bastard's chance
Talking about the handicap with pity, it's a bastard's thing
Son of a bitch, we grew up in R5, head on the drill-like window
I don't need to break through, damn, I need a cigarette and a lullaby
Oh well, yeah

I rekindle the flame, I look up
Basically, we're not supposed to win
In my head, I'm not supposed to lose

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