LEARN LYRICS

Picture the scene: a dimly lit neighbourhood bar, the clock well past midnight, and a poet-singer swirling another glass of wine while thoughts tumble out faster than the liquor can numb them. L’ivresse (which means “drunkenness”) invites us to sit beside Feu! Chatterton’s narrator as he slips from swagger to self-doubt, from playful banter to blurry introspection. The repeated line “Ça y est, voilà, je suis raide” lets us feel that woozy moment when the buzz peaks, the world tilts, and inhibitions evaporate.

Beneath the clinking glasses lies a deeper story. Alcohol becomes both escape and mirror: it softens the narrator’s pent-up anger, yet also confronts him with the question “Who are you?” The fleeting kiss of a “moue boudeuse,” the crimson wine that looks better than the national flag, the friends on the verge of quarrel—each image shows how passion, frustration, and tenderness blur together when night stretches on. By the last glimmer of neon, the song feels less like a toast and more like a confession: a search for identity swirling at the bottom of the glass, where rage dissolves into quiet and the heart, heavy with secrets, still hopes for connection.