OS Bleus (The French Rap)
Lêve-toi, lêve-toi | Wake-up, wake-up
Laisses ces rayons musicales à | Let these musical sunrays
Photosynthètiser ta gueule de bois | Photosynthesize your hangover
Soumets ton ticket à la loterie de samedi soir | Submit your ticket to the lottery of Saturday night
Où est ton etiquette de coterie, ta langue d’ivoire ? | Where is your clique etiquette, your silk tongue?
On y va. Omnivore, mieux consommé tout en vivant | Let’s go. Omnivore, best consumed while still living
Vu sans micro, dans ton tissu de mensonges. Igor, au mirador. | Seen without a microscope in your web of lies, Igor in the watchtower
Palpite ici du graffiti de garde-boue | Palpitating here is some mudflap graffiti
Y’a de la torture dans cette cartouche, et partout. | There’s torture in that cartridge, and everywhere.
A la cadence du claquement des dents du squelette tu danses | To the cadence of the chattering teeth of the skeleton, you dance.
Se becquetant, les vedettes à masques blancs…sont | Pecking each other, the starlets in white masks are…
A la vacance de maquette de pensée, un parcours | Devoid of a thought model, a path
Au carrefour c’est Carlson qui écrase la fourche | At the intersection, it’s Carlson who steps on the fork
Pasteur dopé son ego, son écho abonde au tambour... | Doped-out pastor, his ego, his echo abounds over the drums
Fin je revais lucidement au Seven Eleven | I mean I was lucid-dreaming at the Seven Eleven
Dit le petit gamin, “t’es à un laps d’espace-temps, toi, plaisantin qui fuit ses os bleus sans rien dit, sans rien dit | Said the little kid « you’re at a lapse in space time, you clown who fled from her blue bones without a word, without a word. »
You hit me so I hit you right back, and you bruise bad, and you know I knew that.
You should see your face react: red, blue and black. Now you know that
this staying is aging. So if you need me, what's the trade then?
What the trade then?
I've done a lot of giving but often taken
man planned it
and damned it
But suddenly now he's in love with me how romantic making his vows, chances hope I'll allow, won't stand it no way now.
Know why? Ah ah. I'm granite. I'm granite. I'm granite. (repeat all)
But who taught me to love you better my dear? Didn't you? (repeat)
Oh what it's that again?
I guess I'm sad again.
Today have I seen my friends? Have I worked towards my ends?
Fuck it, man. What's the point?
...Well I doubt it's this. Smugly watching myself twist, some narcissistic masochist.
I'm ugly in the morning when I wake to early.
Guilty afternoons when I wake too late.
Lonely in the evening when the people are all leaving to their drinking and deceiving. I don't make those mistakes.
See you're afraid of letting someone know.
But everybody's known for quite some time.
You don't know what will happen if you let go.
But I know what will happen if you decline.