French pop, ethereal vocals, layered harmonies, sophisticated synths, melodic arrangements

Sous les Étoiles - French Pop Instrumental Beat

LYRICS TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH:
On My Island; Observations of an Expat 

Brazil — I don’t know it at all,
Turkey — I don’t hang around much there...
Italy — seems there are good guys there,
As to France — I left this country against my will
South Africa, such a mess without Mandela,
England — no misery..never get bored with it
Mr. Trump, USA, Drowned in media hate every day.
What about me, what about me, what about me — what am I doin’ in all this mess?
On my island, far away — what are we doin’ in all this mess?


Some say “There’s nothin’ we can do,”
Some say “We need a war or two,”
Some try helpin’ through aid and care,
Others hide in their cottage lairs.
Me? I’m snackin’ on camembert,
Sausage, Sancerre, and aperitifs to spare.
On my island, lush and wild — rainy, rocky, soft and mild,
I am wondering what I’m doin’ in all this
Yeah, I am wondering what the hell we’re doin’ in all this.
What are we doin’ in all this?
What the hell are we doin’ in all this?



On my island, far from the fray,
On my island, where the media fades away,
On my island, I’m easy, I’m chill,
On my island, I found refuge on a rocky hill.
On my island, so far from it all,
On my island, no shady deals, no calls.
On my island, I’m quiet, I’m docile,
In Marie-Cécile’s arms — I slip in with no shame.


The media would like to make you believe
That one has to pit oysters, 
That one has to coat himself in Viagra to better appreciate French fries and mussels!
That flies in Guinea are fartin’ up a storm, That they’ll pollute it all!
That one has to rub one’s butt on the floor to make one’s hair grow back like a magic craft!"


On my island, far from all that trash,
On my island, no media backlash,
On my island, I’m chill, away from all these fools,
On my island, we exile on a refuge rock…


But what am I doin’ in all this mess?
What the hell are we doin’ in all this? On my island…
What am I doin’ in all this noise?
What the hell can we do about all this? On my island…
What am I doin’ in all this?
What are we doin’ in all this?
I keep wonderin’ what I’m doin’ in all this
What can we do in all this?


 (Spoken - Note: The very beginning refers to the actual French anthem)


“Arise, children of the land,” they said —
But those glory days are dead.
Tyranny now walks in disguise,
Hidden deep beneath the lies.
No heads will roll, not one will fall,
It’s all done at night behind the voting hall.
The guillotines are tucked away,
They’re scared as hell about them, every single day.
Well me… I could not care less,
When I get bored I braid my leg hair and this is it
When the time will come
Some heads might roll down the floor
But don’t tell Ginette — she can’t take that blow.
She hates when my songs stir up the crowd,
When I speak out just a little too loud…

Ginette’s voice (Laurent’s actual wife actually):
“But what are you doin’ in all this?
What the hell are you doin’ in all this?”
Laurent:
“Oh, Ginette doesn’t like that vibe...”
“But what are you doin’ in all this?
What the hell are you doin’ in all this?”
Laurent:
“Go on Ginette, go all in —
I’m slippin’ away… on my island again…
Wasn’t me, blame Raymond (Raymond devos – Deceased famous French comic) he said it’s time…Time to cut heads... Just not mine!”

Dans mon île ; Observations d'un expatrié

Laurent Touchab

Related tracks