On the poorly paved street
No one saw him arrive
No one knows since when, why
The individual who has no home

Under the clarity of neon lights
A match lit
He is there, alone in the wind, in the cold
And I forget him
As soon as I get home

I resume the course of my life
From the tower to the shining mirror
I see the neighbors dancing
It's pitch black, the night is dense

It's ten o'clock
No one hears him
No one is waiting for him
Because officially
It's not even 1%
It's an accident
Not even 1%
In the West

On Saint-Hub Boulevard
Slaloming between cars
No one knows, since when, for whom
The individual left his home

And the passers-by, without saying anything
They prefer their smiles
In a city, a family feels it
And somewhere, love two or three children

And I resume the course of my life
From the tower to the shining mirror
I see the neighbors dancing
It's pitch black, the night is dense

It's ten o'clock
And no one hears him
No one is waiting for him
Because officially
It's not even 1%
It's an accident
Not even 1%
In the West

The disaffected consumer
Of a construction site cabin
A few leaves as a mattress
He says "I exist"
But no one sees me
No, no one sees me

In the West
It's an accident
It's an accident

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