Lyrics of Mimoun, fils de harki - Mickey 3d

Mimoun, fils de harki (original)

Mimoun, il fait des trous dans des cartons
Tous les matins il va pointer
Dans l’usine o a sent pas bon
O tout le monde fait que d’tousser
Il sait pas trs bien d’o il vient
Tout ce qu’il sait c’est qu’il est pas franais
Il aurait bien aim pourtant
Mais les gens font que d’l’viter
Alors il reste plant l Raconte des trucs la fraiseuse
Qui lui dit «mon gars t’arrte pas»
Mimoun il a bientt 40 ans
Mais il est toujours chez sa mre
C’est parce qu’elle est un peu malade
Depuis qu’elle a perdu son pre
Et comme c’tait lui le plus grand des fils
Il est parti bosser
A l’cole, il s’dbrouillait bien
L’aurait bien voulu continuer
Comme si la vie s’tait pose sur lui
En lui disant «toi tu bouges pas
Les trucs jolis c’est pas pour toi»
Mimoun il imagine qu’il est dj mort
C’est sa faon de s’vader
Et comme il y croit plus trs fort
Il dit qu’un jour il va s’tailler les veines
Plutt que de s’en aller
Pour tre ailleurs un tranger
Qui fait peur la mnagre
Et qui occupe les policiers
Alors il reste plant l Raconte des trucs la fraiseuse
Qui lui dit «mon gars t’arrte pas»
Comme si la vie s’tait pose sur lui
En lui disant «toi tu bouges pas
Les trucs jolis c’est pas pour toi»

(translation)

Mimoun, he makes holes in boxes
Every morning he will clock in
In the factory where it smells bad
Oh everybody just cough
He doesn't quite know where he comes from
All he knows is he's not French
He would have liked though
But people just avoid it
So he stays planted Tells stuff the milling machine
Who says to him "my guy don't stop"
Mimoun is almost 40 years old
But he's still at his mother's
It's because she's a little sick
Since she lost her father
And as he was the greatest of sons
He went to work
At school, he was doing well
Would have liked to continue
As if life had landed on him
Saying "you don't move
Pretty things aren't for you
Mimoun he imagines that he is already dead
It's his way of getting away
And as he believes in it more strongly
He says one day he's gonna cut his wrists
Rather than leaving
To be a stranger elsewhere
Who scares the housewife
And who keeps the cops busy
So he stays planted Tells stuff the milling machine
Who says to him "my guy don't stop"
As if life had landed on him
Saying "you don't move
Pretty things aren't for you