I get it from her
My Saint Etienne
Braver than beautiful
More brother than proud
Prouder than those
Who haven't suffered

I am black, I am beautiful
I am smoke dust
Deafening noise
But that was before

I will have to leave but I promise I will come back
To lay my proud rose on the land of the ancients
I will make the stations roar and dreams of great paths
I have to leave to become someone

In the neighborhood of the sun when I was learning boxing
To shake the gates of the shaky future
Burning like a torch that the wind does not extinguish
I crossed the ocean

I get it from her
My Saint Etienne
Braver than beautiful
More brother than proud
Prouder than those
Who haven't suffered

I didn't know well
How to become this musician
To leave far from her
To spread my wings
What face will you have tomorrow?
My Saint Etienne
My Saint Etienne

I will have to leave
The tramway of desire at five in the morning
The half-closed eyelids
The music on pause
The sooty hands
And the dreams on hold
The distant guitar
Speaks to me of countries
Of runaway Amazons
And fatal women
I had to leave

I spit my poems, I spit my first cigarettes
I yell in the dead factory with open guts
Thousands of arpeggios in the garage, storm chaser on a bike
The adventure was the stolen fruits, the bodies of water
If my heart is strange it's maybe because my accent is strange
All the words I write spring from my black earth
I twisted life for her in these imaginary forges
I'm not a sailor but I took to the sea

I get it from her
My Saint Etienne
Braver than beautiful
More brother than proud
Prouder than those
Who haven't suffered

I didn't know well
How to become this musician
To leave far from her
To spread my wings
What face will you have tomorrow?
My Saint Etienne
My Saint Etienne

Oh my first guitar, my little Spanish one
That looks like a sailboat
The neck has suffered so much under my clumsy fingers
My laughs, my angers
It's my mother who gave it to me
She waits for me somewhere
She waits for me, somewhere

I get it from her
My Saint Etienne
Braver than beautiful
More brother than proud
Prouder than those
Who haven't suffered

I didn't know well
How to become this musician
To leave far from her
To spread my wings
What face will you have tomorrow?
My Saint Etienne
My Saint Etienne

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