La radio puisse mon attention
But I break back into my mother tongue
That negative tongue that always sticks out just a little too far
Just enough to always be pulled back lest it get perpetually in the way Like a child pulled back from busy streets
Mais la radio puisse mon attention encore
I live in a city who knows many languages but says few A city who gives us her cold shoulder for so long
But, for those fleeting moments of heat
We endure it
I live in a city, broken by/i-polarity, pushed into a frenzy Paper bag and bend me
Like you wouldn’t friend me
Let me think that you’re never coming back
She’s a lover of the most dangerous sort
I live in a city who only loves me back when it’s convenient Yet I live in a city of dreams
My dreams have once again become The fox to my hound
The drug to my problem
The lint to my sheets
Stuck together, for better or worse
My dreams have inspired me more than waking ever could
My dreams mask the ribbons in the night
And take flight though I’ve forgotten how to drive or astral travel
I unravel deep in city streets
Where the taste of beer is always close at hand
As I wrap myself in man
I forgot to take control
And my dreams are struggling to take control
I want them to
Because dreams are limitless and waking is full of borders
The paint by number version of the masterpiece
I want the new canvas and the blank tapes
I want to mail my art to every friend I ever had just to see what they send back
I want to paint a new life into my skin
And sing the anthem of my generation
I want to do away with reason and live by heart
Mais la radio puisse mon attention et j'écoute des chansons anglaises translated to french
It’s like drinking soy milk when you really want cream
It’s just not quite the same
There’s something lost in translation
With a cotton candy wig in a karaoke bar
Melodies sung in accents only some can hear
It makes me miss New York
With its underground jazz bars and rooftop cuddle parties
Where for me, language was never an issue
where I was surrounded by artists from Montreal
But where are those artists now?
When we’re colocs in the same city?
We live in a city too small to have our space, too big to have community and forever divided by language
When I was growing up, I was bullied for being too french
Here, I am too english
Despite the beauty of languages
I’m climbing the tower of Babel
And sometimes those who understand choose not to
And though I do live in a city of dreams that I love,
She doesn’t always love me back and my heart is forever
Divided