Nouvelle Vague: All My Colors / Guns of Brixton

All My Colors

Flying and you know I'm not coming down
You're trying but you know you must soon go down
All my colours turn to clouds
All my colours turn to clouds

Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo

Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo

What d'you say when your heart's in pieces?
How d'you play those cards in sequence?
That box you gave me burned nicely
That box you gave me burned nicely

Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo

Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo
Zimbo, zimbo, zimbo, zimbo

Flying down, flying down
All my colours turn to clouds
All my colours turn to clouds

Hey, I'm flowing, hey, I'm flowing
All my colours turn to clouds
All my colours turn to clouds
All my colours turn to clouds

All my colours turn to clouds
All my colours turn to clouds

Flying and you know I'm not coming down
You're trying but you know you must soon go down
All my colours turn to clouds

Guns of Brixton
(feat. Camille)
(The Clash)

When they kick at your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun

When the law break in
How you gonna go?
Shot down on the pavement
Or waiting on death row

You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton

The money feels good
And your life you like it well
But surely your time will come
As in heaven, as in hell

You see, he feels like Ivan
Born under the Brixton sun
His game is called survivin'
At the end of the harder they come

You know it means no mercy
They caught him with a gun
No need for the Black Maria
Goodbye to the Brixton sun

You can crush us
You can bruise us
Yes, even shoot us
But oh-the guns of Brixton

When they kick at your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun

You can crush us
You can bruise us
Yeah, even shoot us
But oh-the guns of Brixton

Shot down on the pavement
Waiting in death row
His game is called survivin'
As in heaven as in hell

You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton

Nouvelle Vague: Psyche

You're alone in the pack
You're feeling like you want to go home
You're feeling unfinished but you keep on going

The reason is there
You'll be falling 'til your feet are gone
Because your living a hoax
Sell us what you suss

Draw your brain, a sick inspiration
Your pill illusion
And then you follow a transfer
If you don't know the game
Then you're still part of it
Because out on the streets
It's strange

Dodge the bullet or carry the gun
The choice is yours

Yeah! Yeah!

Look at the controller
A nazi with a social degree
A middle-class hero
Rapist with your eyes on me
You pay some masturbation
A priest cheers for the nuns you fuck
You'd wipe out spastics if you had the chance
But Jesus, Jesus
Jesus wouldn't like it, no
Jesus wouldn't like it, no

Real Tuesday Weld: At The House Of The Clerkenwell Kid

Giulia Y Los Tellarini: Barcelona

(SPANISH)
Por qué tanto perderse, tanto buscarse, sin encontrarse?
Me encierran los muros de todas partes. Barcelona te estás equivocando, no puedes seguir inventando, que el mundo sea otra cosa y volar como mariposa.

Barcelona, hace un calor que me deja fría por dentro, con este vicio de vivir mintiendo. Qué bonito sería tu mar, si supiera yo nadar. Barcelona, mi mente está llena de cara de gente extranjera: conocida, desconocida y vuelta a ser transparente.

No existo más Barcelona, siendo esposa de tus ruidos, tu laberinto extrovertido.
No he encontrado la razón, por qué me duele el corazón. Porque es tan fuerte que sólo podré vivirte en la distancia y escribirte una canción.

Te quiero Barcelona (¡ella tiene el poder! x4), Barcelona es poderosa (¡ella tiene el poder!), Barcelona es poderosa (¡ella tiene el poder!), Barcelona es poderosa (¡ella tiene el poder!), Barcelona (¡ella tiene el poder¡), Barcelona es poderosa.

(ENGLISH)
Why so much losing of oneself, searching of oneself, without finding oneself? The walls close in on me from all sides.
Barcelona. You are mistaken, you can’t keep ignoring,
that the world may be some other thing, and fly like a butterfly.
Barcelona. It’s so hot the heat leaves me cold inside, with this vice of living a lie. (literally living lying) how beautiful your ocean would be, if I knew how to swim.
Barcelona. My mind is full of faces of strangers known, unknown, and back to being transparent.
I no longer exist Barcelona, being married to your sounds, your extroverted labyrinth, I’ve not found the reason why my heart hurts. Because it’s (the pain) so strong that I’ll only be able to experience you from a distance and write you a song. I love you Barcelona. (Chorus: She has the power) Barcelona is powerful.