L’imbécile Lyrics in English Clio

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song L’imbécile by Clio from French to English.
I'm coming home a bit late
A bit later than last night
Almost this morning
Disheveled maybe
But I didn't party
I just hung around
I was fine outside
And I even bumped into
A guy with whom
I talked, I laughed
I watched Paris
And the night fall
Sorry
I know I acted like an idiot
And you weren't there
Deep down
I only looked at the city
With someone other than you
We didn't see time pass
The night flew away
With a snap of the fingers
We had some drinks
And wandered off course
Here and there
He hardly said anything
I barely understood anything
I didn't do it on purpose
Was it just a lapse
A sudden lack of luck
I'll never know
Sorry
I know I acted like an idiot
And you weren't there
Deep down
I only looked at the city
With someone other than you
Anyway
By looking at the city
We ended up
Giving each other a kiss
Next to nothing at all
A tiny little night
I picked the wrong guy
All roads lead to Rome
And here I am again
By the way, don't worry
Just do like me
I'm already forgetting him
Sorry
I know I acted like an idiot
And you weren't there
Deep down
I only looked at the city
With someone other than you
Sorry
I only looked at the city
And you weren't there
Deep down
I know I acted like an idiot
With someone other than you
Sorry
I only looked at the city
And you weren't there
Deep down
I know I acted like an idiot
With someone other than you
Lyrics and Translations Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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SONG MEANING

Picture a tousled heroine tip-toeing home at dawn, the lights of Paris still glimmering in her eyes. In L’imbécile, Clio spins the story of a woman who lets the magic of a nighttime stroll with a near-stranger carry her away. She swears she wasn’t partying; she simply drifted through the city, trading laughs, clinking glasses, and watching the skyline melt into darkness. Yet the innocent adventure slips into a tiny kiss, and with it comes a surge of guilt. The chorus is her confessional: she calls herself “l’imbécile” because, while her partner was elsewhere, she shared the city’s romance with someone else.

Behind the breezy melody lies a bittersweet lesson about temptation, spontaneity, and accountability. Clio shows how easily boundaries blur when Paris is your playground, how a harmless detour can feel thrilling in the moment and foolish the next morning. Though she minimizes the kiss—“trois fois rien du tout,” almost nothing—she still pleads for forgiveness, promising she’s already forgetting the stranger. The song becomes a candid, relatable snapshot of human weakness: a mix of dazzling night lights, impulsive choices, and the hope that love can overlook one small slip.

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