Les hiboux

Some are born lucky, you know
While others, on the flip side, struggle their whole lives
My dad was, or so they say, a baron
My mom was a maid in his home
The boss sweet-talked her
And on top of that, he got her pregnant
My poor baroness, by the boss's wife
Was quickly tossed aside, and how!!!
To feed me, my mom turned to the streets
And since then, I've become a good-for-nothing.

It's us who are the owls
The outlaws, the punks
They don’t give a damn
During the day, we hide our eyes
But at night we put on our caps
Our women work hard on the grind
While we’re at the bar, cozy in a corner
Playing cards with guys like us
Rascals, outlaws, the owls.

Don’t get it twisted, we’re not good for much
We’re just losers, deadbeats, and that’s that
You won’t find us on the boulevards
Only at night, chasing away their blues,
The rich and jaded, the twisted
With their ladies giving us those sweet looks
They come to our dives to drink red wine
And while dancing, they call us… Oh my God!...
We feel their warmth trembling in our arms
So we hold them tight, whispering softly:

CHORUS

Some think they’re free men
Haha! They crack me up with all their nonsense
We know it’ll end up in the open air
With a noose around the neck from Mr. Débler
Unless one night, a tough guy, a big shot
Stabs us with his knife in the skin
It ends quickly, no holy water
Our heirs all get the scraps
We losers, we go down in a bad way
Oh! Whether it’s here or elsewhere, we don’t care!...

It’s us who are the owls
The outlaws, the punks
They don’t give a damn
During the day, we hide our eyes
But at night we put on our caps
Listen up, you rich folks
Watch out for me, the rascal, when everyone goes their own way
If my dad hadn’t acted like a thug
I might’ve been a man like you too…