| Hey Antoine, do you remember
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| The yard seemed so big to us
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| We peppered even the longest of silences with giggles
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| Chestnut bugs on the floor
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| We ran around not knowing where to go, we didn't care what fashion was
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| A bit primitive, we could fight for a sticker pack
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| The era of pogs, pokemons, flying goals
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| Now I walk around the yard in a few steps, those were the good old days
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| but we didn't know that, huh
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| Hey Robin, do you remember the time of the first parties
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| We rapped hard, the others took us for crazy
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| We were tackling on the concrete, scraping our knees, we quickly realized
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| that the girls were not the same as us
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| The first mistakes, the first colleagues, the first deviations
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| The first attempts to flirt with our tadpole heads
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| Out of pride, we stifled the cries of the heart, we scratched coins with a
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| rule under distributor
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| Hey Marion, do you remember the smell of fags at your fingertips
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| Knights with scooters became kings
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| Slicked back hair, perfume, makeup
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| The days of stress, false promises, first times
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| We were building the future with "you're not cap" You dreamed of being a journalist and me, of being a rap star
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| We promised each other we'd get married, if we couldn't find someone better
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| I make sure our goodbyes don't turn into farewells, nah...
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| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
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| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school...
 | 
| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
 | 
| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school...
 | 
| Ruben, do you remember our vacation talking every night?
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| On tiptoe as we walked through the hallway
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| Your parents' divorce, your giant Zidane poster
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| Our week in La Rochelle I had never seen the ocean
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| I admit it today, at football you fined me
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| We drowned all our doubts, in the bottom of a mint syrup
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| The bike rides, the band-aid miles
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| You were already moving your head to my slightly awkward texts
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| Hey Sarah do you remember your pink jacket a little too big
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| Alone in front of the gate, when we forgot to pick you up
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| They were chasing you on your glasses, I think they're sorry, frankly
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| I worry when I see how your prince charming speaks to you
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| Hey Nassim, I don't forget our endless hours of glue, our jokes,
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| our somewhat lame cheating and flirting techniques
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| Lost sight without explanation, yet life goes on
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| I hope your little brother told you that I said hello to you
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| Hey Jimmy, remember our Sundays, our phone jokes
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| In the cinema, people's faces when we spoke too loudly
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| The world seemed within reach, we imagined the first names of the passers-by we
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| dared not approach...
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| Hey Gass' I think back to our giggles and our little panics, the fatigue,
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| acting classes, six to eight
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| Football with your father, the tournament everyone was waiting for, we meet 2
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| times a year, yet nothing has changed, nah…
 | 
| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
 | 
| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school...
 | 
| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
 | 
| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school...
 | 
| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
 | 
| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school...
 | 
| Neither an adult nor a teenager
 | 
| I try to keep my head on my shoulders
 | 
| On the shoulders, the trace of the backpack
 | 
| However, it's been a long time since I left school... |