TIME FLIES 

We’ve been crossing nights and nights
Taking night buses to Peckham
Once that district wasn’t gentrified
We aimed to spend a night with chavs (or Heading to a party full of chavs)

We had holes in our pockets
Laffing about the old rich ones
While the youngsters were penniless
Spending their time to drink in parks

Oh lads it’s been a while
This letter’s memory
About the swords we’ve crossed
And our lack of luck

We’ve been defying the stars
Howlin to the moon late at night
The cash machines refused our cards
In a city full of beauties (or temptations)

If I could go back in times
I wouldn’t change a single thing
I had a blast in your company
Oh Chris and Miky, Times Fly

Oh lads it’s been a while
This letter’s memory
About the lust we’ve had
The anger in our guts

A1 - Time Flies

A2 - Les Pieds Devant

A3 - Night In Jan

A4 - Vampires

GUY DEBORDE (Papapapapa)

They turn around and around
They are thousands and thousands
Just like a society of workers bees

They are organized, they are civilized
Working peacefully in a busy Hive

They need some savings
They need some savings
Feeding their families, flirting with credits

They ve been hypnotized by commodity
Every rejection has been taken down

PAPAPAPAPAPA
They bless a queen, they bless a queen
She never shows up
But she is so much entertaining

Their mind are starving, their mind are starving
It has been drugged by moving images

It’s a bloody maze of appearances
Mister nobody looks for entertainment

How much joy you get being so polite?
How much you get living in a dead end?

Du fond de leurs tombes les situs regardent
Guy se retourne sans cesse cauchemarde
Pendant que cette horde crache sur sa tombe

A5 - Guy Déborde (Papapapapa)

B2 - The Worm

STUCK 

You round the bend all day long
And you re so bored of playing with fake toys
And dream of a forbidden life but you know it’s not allowed
But you know you can’t escape

You stare at the window, just like a lonely boy would do
The spring rain is fowling gently and it makes you feel grumpy

Oh Johnny Boy, oh you should run away
How many naps have you taken, in your golden prison
How many times have eaten, that same old shit

You try to catch a light which is uncatchable
You d like to break the walls of this shitty Parisian flat
But you know you can’t escape

B1 - Stuck

We’ve been dreaming of laurels
All we have is pain and sweat
We’ve been crossing fields in bloom
And cities full of history

We can hear from far away
The echo of an exalted crowd
Drums and horns play famous songs
Each times they cross our path

And I can hear your breath in my back (or behind me maybe)
You have been chasing me down
But I won’t let you have me
No I won’t let you go
Into a Breakaway

I’m sharp like a knife
July sun has burnt my skin
My machine is bright like a gun
Ready to strike any time

I got into many battles
And I have lost many times
If I ve never put my hands in V
I ve never faded away
Never faver fade away, fade away, fade away …

B3 - Breakaway

SLEEPWALKER

This guy will never sleep
This guy will never sleep
He closes his eyes and opens anxiety
This guy will never rest
This guy will never rest
He is just a bundle of nerves

In the daytime, in the daytime,
His eyes are hidden behind black Ray Ban
In the Daytime, In the daytime
He just tries to fit in the frame

Never forget that lies, are sleeping on your tongue
Never forget that lies, are sleeping on your tongue
This guy will never sleep
This guy will never sleep
Everyday he falls too deep
This guy will never rest
This guy will never rest
He closes his eyes and gently weeps

In the nighttime, in the nighttime
He is embracing the call of the void
In the nighttime, in the nighttime
He is embracing the call of the void

Never forget that lies, are sleeping on your tongue
Never forget that lies, are sleeping on your tongue
And you are a sleepwalker …

B4 - Sleepwalker

B5 - The Grey Of Everyday

Ces quatre petites frappes parisiennes biberonnées au punk à l'ancienne, au garage-rock, à la subculture britannique et au whisky frelaté tenteront le K.O. dès le premier round. Leurs armes ? Guitare punchy, basse nerveuse et groovy, beat dense mais véloce et chanteur moustachu au venin acide. Retour annoncé de la violence, de la mélodie et de la concision. 

CHEAP RIOT

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