Mauvais Sang
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Je connais la couleur
Des jours de mauvais sang
Et la douce douleur
D'un nous qui a cent ans
Don't call me a bigot!!!
Je connais la poussière
Qui envahit ton crâne
Lorsque même la lumière
Ne traverse pas ton âme
L'humeur de tes discours
Quand arrive la nuit
Et que forme ta cour
D'imaginaires amis
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Don't call me a bigot!
Je connais la couleur
Des jours de mauvais sang
Et la douce douleur
D'un nous qui a cent ans
Je connais la poussière
Qui envahit ton crâne
Lorsque même la lumière
Ne traverse pas ton âme
Don't call me a bigot!
Je connais la couleur
Des jours de mauvais sang
Bad Blood
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
I know the color
Of days of bad blood
And the sweet pain
Of an us that's a hundred years old
Don't call me a jerk!!!
I know the dust
That invades your skull
When even the light
Doesn't cross your soul
The mood of your speeches
When night falls
And your court takes shape
Of imaginary friends
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
Don't call me a jerk!
I know the color
Of days of bad blood
And the sweet pain
Of an us that's a hundred years old
I know the dust
That invades your skull
When even the light
Doesn't cross your soul
Don't call me a jerk!
I know the color
Of days of bad blood
Escrita por: Anouk Khelifa