Sync Different

Les fléaux qui minent l'Afrique, la corruption, les dictatures, l'excision des femmes.

It’s not those mics called the overheadsAnd it’s not those crystals that fit into the palm of my handsNo they won’t crack the safe where I piled hundreds of words just for youWill you try to keep me even if I never break the silence ?

You’re my doudou boy, you’re my hut, you are my intimate shedI like our groovy love even if we are obviously untuned
We’ll have to gambleConceal our secretsWe’ll have to set asideOur rusty stringsLead and metals pointed upon usOur disclocated concertoShine and shine with our groovy frequenciesShall we try to keep on even if we’re never in tune ?
You’re my doudou boy, you’re my hut, you are my intimate shedI like our groovy love even if we are obviously untuned
And if it was a perfect love, it wouldn’t be the same tuneWouldn’t you miss those dirty sounds… untuned ?Untuned…