Elle Voudrait Lyrics in English Clio

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Elle Voudrait by Clio from French to English.
What's wrong with her, she doesn't know
Her life drags on and on
She's neither hot nor cold
She doesn't see colors anymore
She goes out all alone at night
For hours, hours, hours
In the sleeping city
Nobody sees she's crying
Nobody sees she's crying
While she walks for hours
She crosses all of Paris
Eyes glued to the ground
She doesn't even feel the rain
That falls on her Chesters
Her Chesters
While she walks for hours
While she walks for hours
Nobody sees she's crying
She'd like, she'd like
A super trampoline, a hint of a pool
She'd like, she'd like
Some spice, some colors, a volcano in her heart
It's not because of autumn
Autumn, she doesn't care
It's nobody's fault
It comes from she doesn't know where
When she's not walking, she's swimming
For hours, hours, hours
Underwater, that's the perk
Nobody sees she's crying
Nobody sees she's crying
While she swims for hours
Backstroke, breaststroke
She looks at the tiles
The rippling tiles
While she, she swims
For hours
While she swims for hours
Nobody sees she's crying
Nobody sees she's crying
She'd like, she'd like
A super trampoline, a vitamin taxi
She'd like, she'd like
Some spice, some colors, a volcano in her heart
A volcano
A volcano
And she, she takes off when
She explodes when
She'd like, she'd like
A super trampoline, a vitamin taxi
She'd like, she'd like
Some spice, some colors, a volcano in her heart
She'd like, she'd like
A super trampoline, a vitamin taxi
She'd like, she'd like
Some spice, some colors, a volcano in her heart
Lyrics and Translations Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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SONG MEANING

Paris glitters all around, yet our heroine moves through it in muted greys. Elle roams the sleepy streets for hours, head down, too numb to feel the rain on her shoes or the tears on her cheeks. When she is not walking, she slips underwater, staring at the wavering tiles of the pool—safe places where nobody notices her silent sorrow.

But beneath this quiet drift lies a fierce yearning. She dreams of a “super trampoline,” a “taxi vitamine,” bursts of color, a volcano in her heart—anything that could catapult her out of apathy and splash her world with excitement. “Elle Voudrait” captures that bittersweet space between melancholy and hope, reminding us how powerful the desire to feel alive again can be, even when no one else can see the storm inside.

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