Lyric

A rusty old soul

Emerging from the abyss, forgotten

Breathing once more

In the winds of Oléron

I was the shadow of a memory

Lost in the depths, with no future to see

Shells were my skin

And seaweed wove my ragged dress

One day, hands pulled me from the deep

The castaway of years gone by

I was placed here, against a salt-scarred trunk

And I opened my eyes to the summer

I don’t roll anymore… but I shine in a different way

In the gaze of passersby

I don’t run anymore, I take my time

Rusting slowly under the sun

I, the queen of Oléron

Draped in foam and horizons

I live better nailed to the ground

Than when I sped without a compass

Children laugh at my pose

Tourists call me "a pink thing."

They photograph me a hundred times a day

I become a painting… a sculpture

The fisherman placed me here as decoration

But I think he gave me a gift:

A wooden throne, a little wobbly

Where I reign, free and sentimental

I don’t roll anymore… but I shine in a different way

In the gaze of passersby

I don’t run anymore, I take my time

Rusting slowly under the sun

I, the queen of Oléron

Draped in foam and horizons

I live better nailed to the ground

Than when I sped without a compass

I’ve known speed, rain, and wind

Straight roads and impatient lovers

But here, against this patient tree

I’ve finally learned… how to exist

The shells on my spokes

Are my jewels of evolution

I don’t roll anymore… but I shine in a different way

In the heart of the waves and time

I don’t run anymore, I live for real

I am artwork, memory, and the present

I, the queen of Oléron

Bicycle and totem of emotion

My rust sings in the marine wind

My end of life… is nothing at all!

In the salt, I found my path

And rust fits me like silk

I don’t roll anymore… but I’m fine!

And when the tide rises, I smile at destiny