Politesse

[Verse 1]
Nine AM at the Préfecture on Boulevard Ney
The paper in my hand feels thin, like it could tear from one breath
Smell of cold coffee and damp wool coats in the queue
My heart is the bass drum, just trying to play it cool, stay in the pocket for you
This whole city moves to a beat I ain't write
But I learn the steps, stay polite.

[Chorus]
They make the rhythm, so I just follow the beat
Smile and say "merci," find my breath, take a seat
Politesse, politesse, keep the tempo clean
Don't let 'em see the syncopation happening underneath.

[Verse 2]
The man behind the glass don't even look up from his screen
He says, "Come back next Tuesday," like it don't mean a thing
My blood feels like it's thinning out, a memory of Douala heat
I can taste the ndolé Chloé made, a ghost upon the street
But here the air is dry, the silence is so loud
Just another face, lost inside the crowd.

[Chorus]
They make the rhythm, I'm starting to lose the beat
Smile and say "merci," but the sugar feels weak
Politesse, politesse, a bitter medicine
Trying to hide the tremor that's shaking up my skin.

[Bridge]
This rhythm section in my bones is falling apart
Lungs can't find the pocket, got a polyrhythm heart
Chloé, je sens la glycémie...
The floor is starting to tilt for me.

[Chorus]
You make the rhythm, so I'm gonna break the beat
No more "merci," I need a breath, I need to eat
No politesse, no politesse, this is the final scene
My body is the only drum that's truly mine to beat.

[Outro]
Le souffle court...
the short breath...
(Sound dissolves)