Place 54 [English translation]

[Intro]

OK, is it here?

Car 17...

OK, I'll seat here...

[Verse 1]

I leave, behind me the capital

And in two hours and quarter, I'll put one foot on my native town

Every time, I go through quickly* and I've already thought the next one

Faith, where I'll make you turn the wind turbines

By the side, the pylons pass and beat time

I write on high-tension lines and on a blue sky

I leave behind me "les Abbesses" and the 18th district **

And straight in front of Naoned in less two hours ***

I write on the back of a newspaper, on a clothes advertising

My Bic doesn't like the icy paper and that makes me mad

The inspector stops me in full Alexandrine****

He punches and we take again the daily routine

The seat 56 laughs, but I don't get to see what it reads

The seat 42 talks, but I don't get to listen to what it says

I leave behind me my love....

And we're already at midterm...

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]

It seems that people on train aren't good

Nor a smile, nor a glance, nor a contact among neighbors

A woman tells me: "Excuse me, I believe this is my seat"

The car is half empty so I raise

And I sit down in front of... this bitch

I want to unthread a lot of houses

And I tell myself every hours, a TGV crosses their show ^

We have the right to a global version of Vivaldi every quarter of an hour

Because the seat 70 doesn't know the vibrate mode

I listen to Mayra Andrade, her language has Africans accents

And then I tell myself Cape Verde isn't so far away ^^

So it's pretty reasonable

The album ends and I chain up with Raul Midon

I imagine the seat 40 punk listening to Nina Simone

The seat 56 is absorbed by lecture

And I wonder if somebody gets bored so much on the other cars

I remember one time when we were three hours late

They found the bike, but never the biker

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

At seats 63 and 64 someone is that close to come to blows

I made understand mister

Let touch your hair in the bathroom

The seat 62 looks like somebody who hasn't slept

Every quarter of an hour, close his eye and open it at Vivaldi's beat

I'd like the nipper of the seat 50 sleeps deeply as

the seat 63 who snores like an army

I tell myself Grand Corps Malade has already written "Travel on train"

So that means, I've the impression of plagiarize, the metaphor

And less the crutch...

On the carriage, sometimes, we bump into stars...

Once I saw Laurent Boyer at the station,

Yes, wait, isn't Laurent Boyer a true star?

He is more kind of interviewing stars...

But, are others the stars, aren't they?

At the seat 54, this time, it's passed quickly I assure

More space at the blurb

I leave behind me about twenty districts

And a jammed voice says: "Last stop! Get off!"

[Chorus]

• Artist:Hocus Pocus
• Album:Place 54