Sainte-Anne [English translation]

I don't even know where to start in fact

at the same time this is the first time I'm doing this

so please excuse me

if it goes off in all directions

or if I'm quite disjointed

I must say that by now

I had quite a time putting my thoughts in order anyways

I have a hard time finding the words

finally there you are I'll lay it on the table flat out

I was born into a pretty well off family

I've always been privileged

I was never short on love, or anything else for that matter

although my mother who comes still and all from a rather low class environment

was sometimes a bit harsh with my brothers and me.

At school I was a good student, at home I was polite

I don't remember doing a lot of wild shit being young

quite the contrary, I did the right studies

and today I know my course is more or less carved out

let's say that I know where it'll take me if I stay on my path

I'll probably have a wife and beautiful children

a loan to pay, an english spaniel and a hardtop convertible

And yet you see

it's been almost 6 months now that I can't get any sleep

that I can't grab a single bite for two days

without even noticing

and when I look myself in the mirror I see there a strange guy

pale, translucent, so blanched

to make a genocide chuckle

Doctor, I'm not kidding

you must do something about me

it doesn't matter what

take a hammer and bang my fingers, I don't know

because there I really can't go on anymore

I can no more go out in the street

I can no more set foot in the offices

in any case I became unable to take the subway

it stinks of death, it stinks of piss

it makes me claustrophobic and touchy

besides I really look like a prick in my suit which is enormous

and badly cut so even if I wanted to pretend otherwise

there would always be a "foot soldier"1 roughly stamped on my forehead

besides all these people who are absolutely going after squishing each other

who jostle, who sweat, who hiss through their teeth like snakes

Come on you pussy, get on, get on, you're right

anyways, you'll be fine to be the first to arrive

at the key we're all be getting the same harsh day

Eyes glued to the computer screen

you'll harm your pupils reading at an angle

about things that get in your way zilch

"Nah but you know, it's super important this file

the client, he puts up 300 the per hour

come you'll do fine, you're gonna google it if needed

but finish this for me tout de suite"

Yes, you're perfectly right

it's my fault I'm not that energetic

Ah it's funny yes, slap me silly

arsehole

and if you're going to better put some doorknobs on your arse to see?

I'm tired of typing to lunch

some mixed salads at 12 euros

or barbecue in carton

of eating on a table corner

then to spend crappy afternoons splitting hairs

and finishing by embarking on afterworks between colleagues

But what a letdown to think that we love so much

getting fed up during the day that we ask for more in the evening

But fine, I must also say that we meet babes there

or even better "unattacheds"

that goes to say chicks that like us have emotional problems

we present ourselves, we shower them with fibs

we tell them we're partners then we're at the university

and to be true that we spend our time

wearing out our arses on pretty narrow benches

listening to bald guys blathering away

all day long

blathering away about everything and especially about anything

Fortunately, our days always end the same way:

we go and we make ourselves ​​beautiful for the evening

we put our polo shirts collar turned up

then we meat up again at QG

to soak up some middies2 at 5 euros

What's more, when we're a bit off our tits

we often want to play the rebels

and shout at the barkeep:

"Hey there, who do you think you are, scumbag?

Don't you think your beer's a bit stiff?

We would do it if we had a little grit in our veins

but prefer to keep it shut

and we keep on wasting our dough

to waste our breath about nothing in particular

and smoke like chimneys

History of getting totally wasted before getting old

to build up the bags we already have under our eyes

Other than that we mostly talk about the girls we saw on the net

and then about those we'd like to pick up the evening

'cause tonight, like every other night, we'll try to fuck

but certainly not to make love

because love is for fags

nothing that shocking after all:

some guys talking about the girls they shag

some girls shag around to say that they're shagging

Fuck, we often get regrets

sometimes diseases

all in all we're doing it with no pleasure

no real desire

that's mainly to get our minds off it

This hides the open wounds but it's a secret

in fact we're lost, disaffected, disillusioned

alone like wounded animals

we're sad and our hearts bleeding

but we're hiding behind our big mouths and our harsh words

between us we call each other "dawg", "slut", "bastard", "wuss", "bitch", "dyke", "jerk"

because without meaning it, the others are a constant battle

Absolutely doctor, we're living peachy times

and in a peachy city as well

Paris

Paris the necropolis

Paris which smells of carrion

Paris which bit by bit is leading to its downfall

the fragments of our lives

Paris is awfully sound, and we're good people

so awfully good that we're too good for our neighbours

to whom we don't pay more attention

than we do to the piss behind the toilet

Sometimes I just want to scream:

"Don't get near me! Don't touch me!"

Doctor, I need something

doesn't matter what

otherwise I'm gonna break down

I might hit some elder, some passerby, some little punk

and it will be ugly

it will be really ugly

1. Also meaning arse2. Half pints

• Artist:Fauve ≠
• Album:Saint-Anne / 4 000 îles (2014)