Lyrics –
Old French rally car, coughing life at dawn
Paint chipped thin but the fire lives on
Clutch bites hard, hear the gravel spark
Headlights carving the alpine dark
Climbing slow where the cold air sleeps
I feather the throttle, roll past sheep
Bells ring soft as the engine cries
Steam on the bonnet, clouds on the rise
Hairpin turns and a rattling dash
Every gear change sounds half-trashed
Laughing loud as the revs break through
Old scars sing something new
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Hands on the wheel, I refuse regret
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Steel and soul in the mountains, set
Winding forest road, left then right
Pines close in, swallowing light
Tyres hum low, suspension groans
Shadows dance like forest gnomes
They watch me pass from roots and stone
Snickering soft, then they’re gone
Gearbox whining, uneven tones
Still this old machine feels like home
Mud on the doors, dust in my teeth
Every corner testing belief
Laughing loud as the revs break through
This car knows what it’s built to do
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Slide through gravel, no fear, no debt
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Rally ghosts riding every step
Over the crest the world drops wide
Lush green valleys spill outside
Cows stand frozen in the morning air
Steam breath rising everywhere
I lift my foot, let the engine cool
Oil-stained hands, still breaking rules
Forest fades in the rearview glow
Mountain road saying don’t let go
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Laughing mad as the limits bend
“Sacre bleu, we we we, croissant, baguette”
Old French car, my reckless friend
Down the slope as the sunlight pours
Scratches earned, I ask no more
From gnomes to sheep to valley blue
This road, this car, this ride—c’est fou