Lyrics and translation Lartiste - Les crayons de couleurs

Les crayons de couleurs

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ouais, ouais

C'est l'histoire d'une petite fille, sur le chemin de l'école
Qui se jouait de la vie avec c'qu'elle trouvait sur le sol
On vit une sale époque, mais ça personne n'lui a dit
On vit une sale époque, mais ça personne n'lui a dit
Et puis, et puis, et puis, épuise les crayons de couleurs
Laisse place au rouge à lèvre, laisse place au eye-liner
Les chauffeurs de taxi complice, les embrouilles au mac do' le soir
Les caches, caches avec la police qui se termineront bien trop tard

Elle voudrait colorier, colorier
La vie de merde elle voudrait l'colorier
Car là-dedans y a pas d'laurier, pas d'laurier
C'est vrai qu'il t'dit "je t'aime", mais il ne l'fait qu'sur l'oreiller

On l'appelle "puta" ou "bébé", "puta" ou "bébé"
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l'appelle "bébé"
On l'appelle "puta" ou "bébé", "puta" ou "bébé"
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l'appelle "bébé"

C'est l'histoire d'Alcafemor, sur le chemin de l'école
Ou de sacré gros porcs, mettent leur main sur son épaule
Son épaule est si fragile, mais ça on n'lui a pas dit
Les lumières de la ville ne sont pas celle du paradis
Et puis, et puis, et puis, épuise les crayons de couleurs
Elle repense à ses crayons de couleurs
C'est l'histoire d'une petite fille, sur le chemin de l'école
Qui se jouait de la vie, mais au final c'est pas très drôle

On l'appelle "puta" ou "bébé", "puta" ou "bébé"
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l'appelle "bébé"
On l'appelle "puta" ou "bébé", "Puta" ou "bébé"
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l'appelle "bébé"

Ouais on l'a condamné, dès le départ c'était téléphoné
Y avait les catas, y avait ces p'tits frères et ces petites sœurs
Sa maman malade, le crédit à cinq barres
Personne n'se tara, à par la vice ouais, ouais
J'vous raconte même pas ouais, ouais
Quand ils rentraient du bar ouais, ouais
C'est une sale histoire ouais, ouais
Une sacrée histoire ouais, ouais
En blanc en noire ouais, ouais
Qu'elle voudrait colorier
Elle voudrait colorier, colorier
Dans sa vie pas de laurier, rien d'glorieux
Elle voudrait colorier
Elle voudrait colorier

Elle voudrait colorier, colorier
Sa vie de merde elle voudrait l'colorier
Car là-dedans y a pas d'laurier, pas d'laurier
C'est vrai qu'il t'dit "je t'aime", mais il ne l'fait
Qu'sur l'oreiller

Elle voudrait colorier

The Colored Pencils

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah

This is the story of a little girl, on her way to school
Who played with life with whatever she found on the ground
We live in a dirty time, but nobody told her that
We live in a dirty time, but nobody told her that
And then, and then, and then, she uses up all the colored pencils
Makes way for lipstick, makes way for eyeliner
The taxi drivers are accomplices, the fights at McDonald's at night
The hide and seek with the police that will end far too late

She would like to color, to color
She would like to color this shitty life
Because in this, there is no laurel, no laurel
It's true that he tells you "I love you", but he only does it in your ear

They call her "bitch" or "baby", "bitch" or "baby"
But when they give her respect, they call her "baby"
They call her "bitch" or "baby", "bitch" or "baby"
But when they give her respect, they call her "baby"

This is the story of Alcafemor, on her way to school
Where some big, fat pigs put their hands on her shoulder
Her shoulder is so fragile, but nobody told her that
The city lights are not those of paradise
And then, and then, and then, she uses up all the colored pencils
She thinks back to her colored pencils
This is the story of a little girl, on her way to school
Who played with life, but in the end it's not very funny

They call her "bitch" or "baby", "bitch" or "baby"
But when they give her respect, they call her "baby"
They call her "bitch" or "baby", "bitch" or "baby"
But when they give her respect, they call her "baby"

Yeah, we condemned her, it was obvious from the start
There were the disasters, there were these little brothers and these little sisters
Her sick mother, the five-bar credit
No one gives a damn, except for the vice yeah, yeah
I won't even tell you yeah, yeah
When they came home from the bar yeah, yeah
It's a dirty story yeah, yeah
One hell of a story yeah, yeah
In black and white yeah, yeah
That she would like to color
She would like to color, to color
In her life no laurel, nothing glorious
She would like to color
She would like to color

She would like to color, to color
She would like to color this shitty life
Because in this there is no laurel, no laurel
It's true that he tells you "I love you", but he only does
It on the pillow

She would like to color