Poussière

You’ll understand why I never swear on my mother’s head...
She’s worth way too much...
Thank God..

Thank God we don’t inherit our father’s balls, or I’d be in deep shit, so I lay a diamond crown on my mother’s head,
I’ve got the blood to make France tremble, my story is scandalous, it starts in Roubaix in 1950, here’s my blood, my story that from the start reeks of victory, from the girl to the grandmother, in my house, losing is not an option,
The women of my kind have guts, they’re strong, they’ve got spirit,
They’re beautiful, so they get it wrong.

At 21, my blood goes on a trip to see the Beatles, picnic, a young woman gets married in 48 hours, He’s a violent warrior from the Middle East, medieval in his behavior, mom’s always at war.
Over there in Cyprus, if you’re a woman, you polish the furniture, and even if you’re my mother, you either divorce or shut your mouth,
So you dream of traveling, you believe it and you persist, and thank God you move to the Persian Gulf.

CHORUS
I’ve got the blood to make France shake,
From Roubaix to Lebanon, from Nicosia to ...,
Whoever you are, you can’t test me, I’m the daughter of a warrior, so lay a diamond crown on my mother’s head.
On my mother’s head (3X)
My mother’s head (2X)

1,9,7,4 and the “tiops” come, come to loot the country, a coup d'état and bam, Cyprus looks like Palestine,
My family is the civil army, everyone’s shooting, everyone’s losing, the UN gets involved and draws a line with a green pen.
2009, I pay tribute to my fallen ones under the bombs, I was born in the last divided capital in the world, so my blood goes...
Looking for somewhere else, I know she was a reckless driver in the Daufar desert. Mom’s bored and makes do, and to fill her weekends, she shoots at cans with a 4-47 and M16,
They wonder why I kill when I step into the booth, normal, since I was a kid, we’ve been shooting rifles.
Damn, too bad for the Bedouins, goodbye to Abu Dhabi, in Iran or Dubai she doesn’t doubt, the East is her life, later she finds work in the land of chaos,
Moved to Lebanon, my blood heads to Beirut,

CHORUS

7,8 and my blood lives among the ruins, of a country in civil war, the soldiers come from Syria, we’re not in Ch'ti territory anymore, so to the east of Beirut she finds a townhouse.
On the radio, the Katayen, Christian militia of Djemayel, mom lives the war in the neighborhood, can’t go out without her papers, a machine gun has her in its sights, scared, mom’s held at gunpoint, already the day before, snipers shot up her wall, mom lives in the basement because the French embassy doesn’t respond anymore.
Outside, bullets fly in all directions, mom’s in shock, dad never goes out without his ... or it smells like death.
In the basement, we cry, we scream, we recite praises, a ceasefire and it’s on, mom crawls to her room.
Outside it’s the apocalypse, fire, smoke, bodies,
Mom cries for her Lebanon and the horror that decorates it.
My dad spots cameras, journalists take advantage of the calm to film the damage, so she jumps in their van heading West where life goes on, just a few km away on the other side, we laugh, we play.
Over 2000 shells an hour were fired to the east, as if to the west happiness had turned its back.
Traumatized by the war, my mother is the most remarkable, even if at the slightest thunder, mom hides under the table,
You make me laugh, manny you say nothing but I know, they take you too for a Tebé, all these French employers, Let me pay tribute to you so everyone knows there’s a courageous woman behind me,
Who works her ass off, and if I die tomorrow, know that no one on this earth should take away that crown of flowers you have on your head.
On my mother’s head..
On my mother’s head, on my mother’s head, on my mother’s head, my mother’s head, my mother’s head, my mother’s head,
On your mother’s head (lay a crown of flowers)
On your mother’s head (show a little gratitude)
On your mother’s head, my mother’s head, my mother’s head.

I’ve got the blood to make France tremble,
From Roubaix to Lebanon, from Nicosia to ...,
Neither a man, nor a tyrant, nah nah, nor parliament can come test my mom’s devotion.
Not here to make the cottages cry, when I talk about her, my accomplice, my role model, the only one for whom I could kill, whoever you are, you can’t test, I’m the daughter of a warrior, so lay a diamond crown on my mother’s head.

She’s the most beautiful,
She’s the kindest,
She’s the bravest,
She’s the most remarkable woman in the world..
That’s why I never swear on my mother’s head.