Pour Deux Âmes Solitaires (pt. 2)

Running late, running late
The fresher they are, the later they are
I'm waiting, I step back
Thinking about her good curves while holding her popcorn
I turn on my TV, with wild thoughts
I'm waiting, I'm freezing, I prefer the brunettes
More or less tanned, more or less dark, petite because they have big butts
She picked the movie, she picked the worst one, yeah
A beautiful piece of crap but I didn't dare to tell her
Well, maybe a little, coming out of the bathroom
She's not a corda but she still smiles at me, not a joke, I'm getting old
I only knew two women years ago
The ones around me are less interesting, I don't remember how to flirt

You think like me, often act like me
I've seen you talk, think, love
I've seen you dream like me
What can the sky possibly do
For two lonely souls

I question destiny
I'm my own shrink, yeah, my own doctor
Maybe she's using me to forget her ex, huh
But I used her to finish my text, huh
He was your placebo, I'm the vaccine
You'll love my unhealthy side
Like holding you by the shoulder, groping your breast
When you talk about your flaws, I don't listen because
I can swear on my head that I dream of you sitting on my face
And you know she's gonna give her sex
When she starts badmouthing her ex
I still listen
To start with, he was a black guy
He put his job before me, his buddies before me, his ex before me
Even his damn dog before me
He's dumb as the last of the Daltons
He's not what I want, I'm fed up
I'll stop you right there, babe, even if you're hot
I don't have time either, I'm working on the album
By the way, I'm Luidji, I like dumbass chicks
I have two passions in life, I love drugs and alcohol
I love getting wasted, I love getting hammered
I have a penchant for everything harmful to me
Yes, I sell dreams in the form of carrots
I cheated on my girlfriends with lots of girls without a condom
They'd ask me: Who's that?, I'd say: Just a friend

You're paranoid! Yeah, you're paranoid!
Do you remember all the things you used to say on the phone
All the things you'd talk about

For those who send out SOS
From the north, south, east, west
Yeah, I felt like hanging myself
Now I'm so sure of myself
Every time I speak up I feel like I'm selling out
Know that a pattern is not a plan
I had too many doubts and questions
About motivations, associations
But I meditated long enough
Today it's more than just a matter of time
For those who send out SOS
From the north, south, east, west
Yeah, I felt like hanging myself
Now I'm so sure of myself
Every time I speak up I feel like I'm selling out
Know that a pattern is not a plan
I had too many doubts and questions
About motivations, associations
But I meditated long enough
Today it's more than just a matter of time

Pussy palace, hello