🤎120 CHEVAUX — electrofolkpop [FR] · Châline #JuneOfLove

[Full Album ➡️ Playlist🎶] [FR Lyrics — scroll 🔽 EN] Y cogne à cent-vingt — pis y pense pas. Y pousse sans frein — pis y s’retient pas. J’le sens dans l’vent, dans l’eau, dans l’dos… L'moteur cognait trop vite, Trois dauphins longeaient la coque, témoins curieux d’histoires volées. Puerto Galera, bleu profond su’a baie, Marco Polo filait cap sud. Toé, regard perdu, tu scrutais l’horizon, Pis moé, l’sel m’collait la joue. T’étais d’l’autre bord du banc, lunettes baissées, mollet tendu. Le moteur cognait, rythme net, ancré. Moi j’checkais rien qu’ça. Ton pied clanchait sans trahir. Y m’appelait d’en dessous, pis j’ai compris c’tait le moment. J’ai descendu la trappe pendant qu’tu r’gardais droit devant. Y faisait noir, l’bloc vibrait déjà. J’ai glissé ma main su’l métal — brûlant, vivant. T’as fermé derrière toi. Pas un mot. Toé aussi t’étais venu. Le bruit s’est calé dans l’ventre. Y cognait comme un tempo sûr. J’ai pas bronché. J’me suis tenue là jusqu’à sentir qu’y m’prendrait. Y cogne à cent-vingt — pis y pense pas. Y pousse sans frein — pis y s’retient pas. J’le sens dans l’vent, dans l’eau, dans l’dos… C’t’un moteur ou un cœur ? J’m’en calisse, y m’lâche pas. J’t’ai lancé, droit dans l’bruit : « Toé, tu descends-tu souvent t’faire chauffer par l’bloc ? » T’as répondu en m’tenant l’épaule : « Quand y veut autre chose que d’l’essence... » Le moteur cognait trop vite, pis y frappait d’travers. Chaque coup déraillait l’beat, chaque piston hurlait l’erreur. Ton bras m’tenait. L’huile giclait l’feu, Moé j’prenais tout, jusqu’à c’que ça force trop. Pis au dernier coup, quand y a vrillé pour de bon, j’ai senti qu’c’tait pas lui tout seul qui perdait l’contrôle. Y cogne à cent-vingt — pis y pense pas. Y pousse sans frein — pis y s’retient pas. J’le sens dans l’vent, dans l’eau, dans l’dos… C’t’un moteur ou un cœur ? J’m’en calisse, y m’lâche pas. Cent-vingt chevaux dans l’corps, pis j’les sens encore. Quand j’suis remontée, Puerto Galera tremblait d’loin. Y’avait plus rien à prouver — mais les dauphins tournaient encore. Pis moi, j’tenais l’bruit dans la bouche, comme une promesse qu’avait mordu. •—•°•—•°•—•°•—•°•—• ~ ENGLISH Translation ~ •—•°•—•°•—•°•—•°•—• He's pounding at 120—and he's not thinking. He's pushing without stopping—and he's not holding back. I can feel it in the wind, in the water, in my back... The engine was knocking too fast, Three dolphins were skirting the hull, curious witnesses to stolen stories. Puerto Galera, deep blue over the bay, Marco Polo was heading south. You, lost in your gaze, were scanning the horizon, And me, the salt was sticking to my cheek. You were on the other side of the bench, glasses lowered, calf tense. The engine was knocking, a clear rhythm, anchored. I was just checking that. Your foot was clicking without betraying. He was calling me from below, and I understood it was time. I lowered the trapdoor while you stared straight ahead. It was dark, the block was already vibrating. I slid my hand over the metal— hot, alive. You closed it behind you. Not a word. You came too. The noise settled in my stomach. It pounded like a steady beat. I didn't flinch. I stood there until I felt it was about to take me. It pounded at 120—and didn't think. It pushed without stopping—and didn't hold back. I felt it in the wind, in the water, in my back… Is it an engine or a heart? I don't give a damn, it won't let go. I called out to you, straight into the noise: "You, do you often go downstairs to get warmed up by the engine?" You replied, holding my shoulder: "When he wants something other than gas..." The engine was knocking too fast, and it was hitting the wrong way. Each stroke derailed the beat, each piston screamed a mistake. Your arm was holding me. The oil was spraying fire, I was taking it all, until it was too hard. And on the last stroke, when it really went off the rails, I felt it wasn't him alone losing control. He's hitting at 120—and he's not thinking. He's pushing without stopping—and he's not holding back. I feel it in the wind, in the water, in my back... Is it an engine or a heart? I don't give a damn, it won't let me go. One hundred and twenty horsepower in my body, and I can still feel it. When I came back up, Puerto Galera was trembling from afar. There was nothing left to prove— but the dolphins were still turning. And me, I held the sound in my mouth, like a promise I'd bitten into.