If I told you that Martin had a dream
I had a nightmare where every detail left a mark on me
It's etched in my memory
I woke up with a start with this strange sensation
Of being unable to distinguish reality from the dream
2024, barely two years after little Napoleon was elected President
His Islamophobia is no longer just rhetoric
It's a way of governing, it's a policy
Supposed to replace the RN, weaken them and re-elect Emmanuel
He was just a pawn, everything was planned
At least that's what they thought, but he was elected
The country is on the verge of breaking apart
The poor are poorer, the yellow vests are blood red
He brutally represses the movement
Proving to the naive that one can be xenophobic and liberal
The fools who believed in him must recognize
That they changed puppets but not masters
Little Napoleon no longer visits the countryside
But he knows how to take care of the very rich who financed his campaign
Rappers are broke
Little Napoleon can't stand this thug music
So he shuts down Skyrock and suddenly since they no longer make money
They all go back to making conscious rap
Along comes young Maryam, forced by a new law to be renamed Marianne
Her heart warmed by faith, in a freezing France
Marianne made her choice, she wants to wear the veil
Her parents oppose it, not out of conviction
But in this new France when you're Muslim
You have to keep a low profile, you have to make yourself small
Not show that you fast, never say that you pray
That day Marianne returns from university
Her turquoise blue hijab, she had to take it off at the entrance
Then put it back on when leaving, heading to the stadium
A moment of escape, running makes her less gloomy (Marianne)
Marianne excels in the 100 meters
In this distance in France no girl can beat her
But in little Napoleon's republic
Athletes like Marianne are banned from competitions (Marianne)
Marianne sits at the back of the bus, takes out a book from her bag
She is supposed to get off at the terminus, she's studying for her exam (Marianne)
But the bus stays put, Marianne wonders what's happening
The heart contaminated, the face uglified
The driver overzealous, turns to her and says
"Madam, here we are in France
You should keep your beliefs in the private sphere
If you don't like our customs, be consistent
Take your slippers and your clogs, go back to Algiers
Yes, I'm talking to you
In this bus, you're the only one with a piece of cloth on your head
Either you take off your veil, or you get off
I won't drive this bus as long as you're on it"
Such are the words he throws in her face
Misunderstanding and fear disfigure her
No one comes to her aid
Through her, it's with Islam they want to settle scores
The situation escalates, since the bus isn't moving, the passengers are on edge
They ask her to get off, hurling insults with rage
A woman who calls herself a feminist spits in her face
Marianne feels humiliated, hears bursts of laughter she will never forget
She struggles under the blows and the insults fly
A man rips off her veil before she leaves the bus
The scene is filmed, posted online
Marianne becomes a symbol, the video goes viral
The far-right unleashes in the comments
Kindness hardly shelters in hearts of stone
The country is under tension
We await the next address
From the president of all the French
Hoping that for once he will show compassion
Not a single word for Marianne, nothing
He goes further and pays tribute to Marshal Pétain
Then, millions of French take to the streets
To protest against this France they no longer recognize
I find myself thinking that we can still be different and French
Hypocrites like Éric Naulleau are excluded from the protest
Accused of being complicit, passive racists
The movement is pacifist but disrupted by pro-Napoleonists
On the sidelines of the procession they attack Lassana
Who was forced to change his name, renamed François
François is not an ordinary Frenchman, the whole country knows his face
Because only a few months earlier, at the risk of his life
He had saved Madame France from a fire
Yet Madame France did not hide
Sharing the same ideas as little Napoleon
When she was saved Madame France made her mea culpa
And the naive believed again in reconciliation (reconciliation)
It's the end of a symbol
Drowned in his blood, François lies on the ground
The "Great Replacement" is no longer a theory
Like in New Zealand, it leads to killings
Lassana's blood overflows the vase
Worse than in 2005, the suburbs are ablaze
The identity groups, meanwhile, organize
The government lets it happen, France is Balkanizing
Coming from all over Europe, the ultra-nationalists make France a battleground
Seasoned, the arsenal comes from Ukraine
Where there's war there's arms trafficking at the cost of our tears of pain
On the other side, our neighborhoods are boiling
I call for calm but I feel like no one hears me (no one hears me)
Homemade bombs replace cocktails
The melody sung by the Kalashnikovs is deadly
Little Napoleon decrees a curfew
Under his orders, the French army invades the suburbs
Hiding in the Élysée with a smile on his face
He counts the dead of the civil war he dreamed of
The extremists on the lookout take action
They see in this an opportunity to divide the country
Claiming to avenge the blood of Muslims
They commit the deadliest attack of the decade
Hundreds of deaths are counted
I feel disarmed in the face of so much pain
My hopes for peace vanish
Even the most pacifist radicalize
Add to that a new pandemic
Much deadlier than the last
In a war where we are our own enemies
Where each coming day is much worse than yesterday
I had a nightmare
My memory is full of blood
I wake up in a sweat
Is the real world any better?

Marianne

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES