Demain c'est loin [English translation]

Ink flows, blood sheds.

The blotting paper

Soaks up emotion, sacks images from my memories

Im talking about what my kin lives and what I witness

Guys sunk by despair and drifting away

Guys who tear at each other for 3 grands of hash

Im talking about everyday, listen closely, my lines won't make you laugh.

Laugh, smile, some have lost that, I'm thinking of Momo

Who told me "later" once, never to be seen again.

Courting the Devil to escape Hell, you made it brother

But its still misery for those behind pushing

Pushing, growing in a field of concrete

Grow up in a parking lot and see older bros making moolah

Poverty makes you think in a heartbeat

We cut, we press, we split, we wrap, we sell

We're churning in crack's money

Yeah, that's life, and dont mention minimum wage here, here, here

Here, what youngsters dream of is a Golf GTI,

A Tacchini tracksuit, landing chicks easy, like Manny.

Just like everyone I have a blast watching "Scarface"

Thank God, I grew smarter, while he croakes in the end.

Death. The end. The end justifies the means.1 4, 5 shady jobs

And we can hold until tomorrow, then we'll see

We walk in the shadows of evil from dusk till dawn

Lurking in a corner, blade in hand, modern highwaymen

Highways. Fastways. There's only one to become God

Strike like a hammer, dont look down, envious, greedy

One way in, two ways out, three quarter length jacket,

Succeed, vanish, become a memory.

Memories, to be so young and have a full notebook of guys

Wiped off the map, like a blackboard. Pow ! you're out.

Believe in whom, in what, these guys are all like mirrors,

Walking the same way, just wanting to fill their pockets.2

Pocket, closet. We live and end in one before going to hell.

On earth we build our own paradise

A fiction, disillusion is too strong, get the pot out

Reality hits too hard, we need an escape.

Escape. Escape. Use your imagination. Here, all is grey

Walls, minds, rats at night

We want to escape this prison, the clock ticks, time for action

Smoke screen, one day you lose your mind.3

Mind. Brains. Some are lucky enough to have any.

Others have them blown out for a handful of greenback, brothers at war

Weapons are growing like weeds

The gangster's mythos spreads like gangrene, sows its seeds.

Seeds. Seeds. Seeds of delinquent, what did you hope for ?

From the cradle, we teach them that nothing makes a man but money

From a discreet maverick to organised crime, the seeds turn to roots

Too big, impossible to stop.

Stopped. Arrested. Jinxed on the way in, lucky on the way out.

You get 3 months, the noise goes around, reputation swells

Prison bars don't scare anymore, it's routine, a common thorn

A light sketch of black ink that sometimes comes alive.

Alive. Enlivened by a cash frenzy

Darkness falls, no matter the weather, we roll the dice, we have to gamble

Win and lose, come back with a few more bills

That will help, no one will ask where they fell from.

Falling or not. For all, for nothing, we take the chance, no big deal bro.

Anyway, In both cases, we'll be OK

Live like a dog or like a prince, no contest

We made our choice, put meat on the grill and flash the gold.

Gold. A golden dream. Pockets are full but the target is far.

The arrow rebounds, the devil adds an ugly notch, these guys

Cross out their own names, shoot for cash, I can hear bells, the sound of spades

Digging a hole, it's all too easy

Easy. Easy like the jacket of the submissive bourgeois

Like a piece of porcelain on a windshield 4

Tchac ! Razor blade on the handbag, and here comes the dough

And that's all day, tomorrow, after tomorrow.

Tomorrow ? Thats not the issue, we live day to day

We dont have the time else we lose money, others will take it.

Tomorrow is far away, we're not in a rush, slowly and surely

We move on and watch our asses to allow ourselves a future.

Future, the future won't change a thing, the next generations

Will be worse than us, their lives will be more morose

Our future is the minute after the goal, anticipate,

Prevent before we get nailed.

Nailed. Nailed on a bench, nothing else to do, we drink beer

And catcall the broads that don't have any brother.

Walls stick to us like flypaper

We're here, we'll never get out of it, Satan takes us for a ride.5

Ride. Riding chances at every second,

Each opportunity is a new stone for our slings

Against their lasers, some lose hope, many hit the ground

The stubborn ones refuse the suicidal fight.

Fight. Fighting disbelief, the gods are watching humanity walk

Deliberately and briskly to the wrong end of eternity.

We prefer hanging down here, we'd get bored up there

And only here will angels sell you smoke.

Smoke. One last puff. The veil has fallen.

Head on the pillow, shit has faded for a moment

From the window comes a scream, a man is being robbed

A child is being caught, handcuffed for a Cartier watch

Handcuffed, shackled by fatality

Prisonner of the dungeon, fate is the gaoler

The turf, the arena, we grew up with the game,

Brave gladiators, but life is tenacious, we fight the way we can.

In high towers

Incomprehension, bands of kids with so called bad manners

Frictions, excitation, civilian patrols

Useless fear, stupid myths and legends

Hash by the kilo, poets armed with biros

Reserves of creativity, hangars, silos

We dash to block 20 with a pack of Heineken

Hitting on a big spliff to forget

African princesses, teenage moms, plastic bags

Filled with glue, out of touch blokes, lunatics

Parallel economy, team solid as a rock

Little Dons controlling their spot tightly

We pop up the bubbly, pressed together like in Mexico

Concrete skylines, pickpockets, druggies

Honest people ignored, supercops, zorros

Politicians and journalists visiting the zoo.

Respectful muslims, humble family men

Speakers blasting music from the jungle

Devastated lobbies, shells of torn down rides

Swarms of kids coming to beg

Orange lights flaring, smoking chimneys

Impromptu soccer games on the tarmac

Golf, VR6, screeching tyres

Silence broken by the police sirens

"Façonnable" polo shirts, lousy tracksuits

Mothers with admirable character traits

Bogus hash, jail stories

Stupid divides, piles of embers.

Eastern cliches, spicy food

Cute tree names for towers in the cement forest6

Midday desert, scorching sun

Nightlife during the month of Ramadan7

No distractions, create a bit of action

Games of dice, of cards, gambling, fatal attraction

Non-stop laughs, surprise arrests

Corrupted district mayors.

Walking on used needles, dreams of traveling

Car radios on sale, batches of torn off stereos

Blokes without a B plan, merciless psychos

Best friendships a man can ever build.

Sport prodigies training on waste grounds

New jokes, terrible pick up lines

Individualities cracking up because of stress

No one makes a move, no one will get hurt.

Fumes of ether, of solvents, of alcohol

Brink's trucks eyed like the jackpot

It's not funny, the dog bites when locked in a cage

Drools of rage, the bars climb up to the second floor.

Deal in hash, it's wiser if you want to take the girl out

If you fall, shut it, no drama

But school ain't far, troubles either

It starts with spankings and ends up in custody.

Look at the street, what changes ? only seasons.

You dribble concrete, spit concrete, shit concrete

You fight for nickel, what does that yield ?

Don't regret the cash when cops come knocking at your door.

Three colors on billboards8 are treating us like trash.

It's not Manilla, ok, but cigarettes turn into spliffs.

Guilty, innocent, we talk cash, percentage.

Eye for an eye, mouth for a tooth, its stressful.

Early on, its already family out there, Kader's gang9,

"Motherfucker !" snotty kids already swearing.

Not easy to talk about love, factory work,

Pretty birds breaking their back in kitchens.

Councilmen keep hammering 'bout renovation, it's comforting

But it's still the same shit under the fresh layer of paint.

Our late dreams lie buried in the courtyard

At twelve, drive, die, end up like Tupac Shakur.10

Looking at pictures, adults today, buddies

Quite a few friends died already in bike crashes

You win once, lose a thousand times, future is a lottery

For this, I dedicate my lyrics as votive offerings, man.

Here you're judged on your tough reputation

Fail once, and everyday they'll piss on your doorstep.

It's the minimum rate, and be careful

The heavyweights turn the area into a stronghold.

Frozen, the air becomes electric, there's plenty of seats

Congealed concrete in lieu of ice field

Kids want to make it, but noes fall like hammers

Shitty artists, leeching state grants.

So much energy lost on undue harm

The paymasters with so much shit in their eyes

Meanwhile, hopes fizzle, screw up, some are rapping

Rocks fly, stolen cars slide out of control

It's chaos in high school, in the halls extinguishers are emptied11

The neighbourhood becomes a hunting ground for detectives

Backs have eyes 'cause the waters are ridden with reefs

Reap the wheat, we roll dices in a dark coffin.

It's too much, buddies shit all over the the Romeo type

A good hit, tweak the wires, and go for a rodeo.12

Life is hard, and if we want a little fantasy

They cut hash with rubber and sell it to you for a tenner

You may say "that's ok, it's not a lot"

But for some schwag, when you got nothing, a Hamilton13 that's steep.

I know what I'm talking about, I, the bastard

Who had to celebrate his twenties with 3 cans of cheap beer.14

The place is boiling tonight, who's the king ?

Right away, walls are reserved like parking spots.

But who can understand, when they have everything,

That a man at his wit's end strikes hard, fuelled by hatred,

And that we are not born and programmed to make some fuss.

I don't think about tomorrow cause tomorrow is far away.

1. Hidden wordplay. In French, "la fin" (the end) and "la faim" (the hunger) are homonyms. When you hear it in the song, the line is "the end justifies the means" but when you read the lyrics, it reveals to be "The hunger justifies the means" 2. Originally "drawer" in French, which can be slang for pocket and for a confined place, a prison 3. Originally "blow a fuse". in French, fuse is called a "plomb" which means "lead" because of the metal making the wire inside the fuse. The word plomb is then used in the next 2 lines as "some have lead in their brains", a French expression meaning being smart, and then as a slang word for bullets.4. Pieces of the ceramic/porcelain coating of spark plugs can be used to cut car windows before breaking them clean, just like you would with a diamond 5. Originally "Satan holds us with his fork (fourche)" which turns into the verb "enfourcher" which means to fork as well as to mount/ride 6. It's common in France for blocks of flats in suburbs to be named after trees and flowers 7. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramadan8. A reference to the three colors of the French flag, which are also used by the far right party "front national" on its flame shaped logo. Here the artist alludes to the party's xenophobic propaganda on their posters 9. Reference to Baader's gang, a famous East German terrorist group that made the headlines in the 70s. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andreas_Baader

Kader is a north African first name, since a lot of the French ghettos population are of north African origin 10. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tupac_Shakur 11. Reference to another song of the band : "Petit Frère" 12. Get a strong hit of weed, tweak the wires of a stolen car and go for a rodeo ride with it 13. "Hamidou" is a north African first name, but the meaning of it here is quite obscure, as it seems to refer to the sum of money mentioned in the previous line ("ramsellef" is Algerian slang for 5000. 5000 centimes = 50 francs = ±8 dollars). I finally decided to translate it with "Hamilton" as a reference to Alexander Hamilton appearing on the 10 dollar bill. The fact that it sounds a bit similar and that calling money notes by the name of the persons pictured on it was a thing in France before the euro(a Pascal = 500 francs for example) comforted me in this choice. 14. Originally : "Valstar", a very bad and cheap brand of beer

• Artist:IAM
• Album:L'école du micro d'argent