Текст и перевод песни Hocus Pocus feat. Alice Russell - Beautiful Losers

Beautiful Losers

J'zappe du coq à l'âne: du coquard de Rihanna
Au geyser de Mentos et Coca light,
De canal en canal, d'Ilan à Youssouf Fofana,
D'Obama à la brasse de Loana,
Deux nanas et leur "...".
Pourquoi j'matte ça? Ça ne m'avance pas, ça va de soi!
Daft Punk sur les dix doigts,
Miss Amanda, le pe-ra et les francs CFA,
Une blondinette en coupé-décalé Gwada,
Un ninja, coupe afro, joue du nunchaku,
Les photos d'autopsie de Tupac Shakur.
Chaque jour, j'passe du morbide au futile,
Me perds dans un dédale d'images inutiles.
Une gamine empile des gobelets en pyramide,
J'me dis qu'elle est rapide et qu'mon temps j'dilapide.
Dans la tamise, on surfe à la dynamite, l'ami,
Pour avoir son quart d'heure de gloire comme Andy l'a dit.
People, people, people, people...
Beautiful losers...
Sit up straight and listen,
Just too much information,
Please won't you let me be,
Is it my own choice, that it puzzles me so?
Stop! Need to turn you off, yes it's time to go...
Calmness breeds imagination,
And silence punctuates the sound,
It's a very numbing feeling as
Our pencils hit the ground,
The quiet fire
Of revolution
Once again starts inside.
People, people, people, people...
Beautiful losers...
Une révolution sponsorisée par Nokia;
La souffrance d'un Etat dans le regard de Neda,
Pardonnez-moi, si je ne m'attarde pas
Mais je préfère l'hélicoptère façon Kâma-Sùtra.
Amy sous crack, Britney la boule à Z,
Laure le boule à l'air, à l'aise, comme Paris t'as vu la scène?
J'ai la pupille carrée, les yeux injectés de sang
A force de fixer l'écran dans l'écran.
Je rentre dans les rangs, lentement, sans élan,
Égarant mon temps dans l'errance, plan sur plan.
Truqué comme "Portables et pop corn",
Yankee comme Port d'armes et hot dog!
Ray-Ban et top model, en pleine crise chausser les skis,
Banquable comme Bruni Tedeschi.
Peu d'esprit, juste du ness-bi,
De la vie une pale copie,
Une industrie qui balbutie,
Une industrie qui balbutie.

Beautiful Losers

I channel surf from pillar to post: from Rihanna's flop
To the geyser of Mentos and Coca light,
From channel to channel, from Ilan to Youssouf Fofana,
From Obama to Loana's bra,
Two broads and their "...".
Why am I watching this? It's not doing me any good, that's for sure!
Daft Punk on all ten fingers,
Miss Amanda, the father-and the CFA francs,
A little blonde in Guadeloupean coupé-décalé,
A ninja, with an afro, plays the nunchaku,
Tupac Shakur's autopsy photos.
Every day, I switch from the morbid to the futile,
I get lost in a maze of useless images.
A little girl stacks cups in a pyramid,
I tell myself she's quick and that I'm wasting my time.
In the Thames, we surf on dynamite, my friend,
To have our fifteen minutes of fame as Andy said.
People, people, people, people...
Beautiful losers...
Sit up straight and listen,
Just too much information,
Please won't you let me be,
Is it my own choice, that it puzzles me so?
Stop! Need to turn you off, yes it's time to go...
Calmness breeds imagination,
And silence punctuates the sound,
It's a very numbing feeling as
Our pencils hit the ground,
The quiet fire
Of revolution
Once again starts inside.
People, people, people, people...
Beautiful losers...
A revolution sponsored by Nokia;
The suffering of a state in Neda's eyes,
Forgive me, if I don't linger
But I prefer the helicopter in the Kama-Sutra way.
Amy on crack, Britney the redneck,
Laure the airhead, at ease, like Paris have you seen the scene?
My pupils are square, my eyes bloodshot
From staring at the screen within the screen.
I'm falling into line, slowly, without enthusiasm,
Wasting my time in wandering, one shot after another.
Faked like "Portables et pop corn",
As American as Port d'armes and hot dogs!
Ray-Bans and top models, skiing in the midst of a crisis,
As bankable as Bruni Tedeschi.
Little mind, just superficiality,
A pale copy of life,
An industry that stammers,
An industry that stammers.