In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Moi, voyez-vous, je suis un gosse du béton.
Quand je sors dans la rue, je bande au néon.
J'aime pas les toits pointus, je mange à la terrasse.
Je vais me faire des ennemis car j'aime la Tour Montparnasse.
J'habite en HLM, cité 3000 enfants.
Verdure un peu seulement, je respire de la façon suivante !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
Un ami m'emmène tout droit à la campagne
Pour me désintoxiquer, il me dit que ça fera pas de mal.
Au bout d'une demi-heure, je supporte plus les petits oiseaux.
Je veux un marteau-piqueur qui me rentre dans le dos.
J'habite en HLM, cité 3000 enfants.
Verdure un peu seulement, je respire de la façon suivante !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
(Guitare solo)
Je mange de la conserve, je bouffe pas macrobiotique.
C'est sûrement pour ça que, d'ailleurs, j'ai mauvaise mine
Mais moi, je peux pas dire que la campagne m'inspire
À moins et même assurément, la femme du fermier qui transpire.
Alors je l'emmènerai derrière une botte de foin.
Le regard câlin, je lui susurrerai à l'oreille !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
Quand je sors dans la rue, je bande au néon.
J'aime pas les toits pointus, je mange à la terrasse.
Je vais me faire des ennemis car j'aime la Tour Montparnasse.
J'habite en HLM, cité 3000 enfants.
Verdure un peu seulement, je respire de la façon suivante !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
Un ami m'emmène tout droit à la campagne
Pour me désintoxiquer, il me dit que ça fera pas de mal.
Au bout d'une demi-heure, je supporte plus les petits oiseaux.
Je veux un marteau-piqueur qui me rentre dans le dos.
J'habite en HLM, cité 3000 enfants.
Verdure un peu seulement, je respire de la façon suivante !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
(Guitare solo)
Je mange de la conserve, je bouffe pas macrobiotique.
C'est sûrement pour ça que, d'ailleurs, j'ai mauvaise mine
Mais moi, je peux pas dire que la campagne m'inspire
À moins et même assurément, la femme du fermier qui transpire.
Alors je l'emmènerai derrière une botte de foin.
Le regard câlin, je lui susurrerai à l'oreille !
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Goldo sans filtre le matin à jeun.
Baby-foot, flipper américain
Radio, infos tous les matins à jeun.
Lyrics submitted by Oliviaka
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(Guitar solo)
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