Saint Claude Lyrics in English Christine and the Queens

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Saint Claude by Christine and the Queens from French to English.
Ragged breath
That lets us guess
That everything's decided cided cided
Everything's decided cided cided
Made up like with chalk
Everything clashes and I love it
Hands are pale, empty, empty
Hands are pale, empty, empty
Only one of your wrists is tattooed
Disfigured by your sleeve
The lion only smiles halfway
At my immense solitudes
Your face will never be whole
As you look outside
I carry a devoured portrait
Pain fate edge to edge
Here's my station
Here's my station
Ooh Ooh Ooh Ooh
But if you say just one word I'll stay with you
Here's my station
Here's my station
Ooh Ooh Ooh Ooh
But if you say just one word I'll stay with you
The beautiful attitude
With impatience as certainty
Three-strand necklace necklace necklace
Three-strand necklace necklace
You'll be, I hope
True to the violences that operate
As soon as you breathe, worse, worse
That you breathe, worse, worse
Usually this city offers nothing
Just a handful of stubborn smells
And this city is dead, I know
Only you keep some audacity
You should carry it far
While others give up
I go down two hells farther
So the storm announces itself
Here's my station
Here's my station
Ooh Ooh Ooh Ooh
But if you say just one word I'll stay with you
Here's my station
Here's my station
Ooh
But if you say just one word I'll stay with you
Ooh Ooh
So the storm announces itself
So the storm announces itself
So the storm announces itself
So the storm announces itself
We are so lonely
So the storm announces itself
So the storm announces itself
We are so lonely
So the storm announces itself
We are so lonely
So the storm announces itself
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Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, REMARK MUSIC, Songtrust Ave, BECAUSE EDITIONS
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SONG MEANING

Saint Claude drops us onto a dim Parisian sidewalk where Christine spots a mysterious stranger: pale hands, chalky makeup and a half-hidden lion tattoo. The singer studies every detail, feeling the stranger’s ragged breath and sensing a storm of emotion under that cool exterior. “Here’s my station,” she repeats, yet she lingers, offering a simple bargain: Say one word and I’ll stay. In those few moments the song captures the magnetic pull of two lonely souls who recognize each other’s wounds before they even speak.

Beneath the poetic imagery lies a bigger story about urban isolation and the courage it takes to stay visible when you feel different. The city may feel “dead,” but the stranger still carries audacity like a spark, and Christine wants to protect that spark, even if it means descending “two hells further” to meet them. When the chorus calls for the storm to break, it is really a plea for change, connection and self-acceptance. Saint Claude is a gentle anthem for anyone who has waited at their own metaphorical bus stop, hoping that someone will notice, and maybe stay, before the rain finally comes.

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