Outside / In The Wild / For A While

all songs written,composed and produced by Boris Paillard
recording, mixing, mastering : julien rocchia
drawings : florian paichard
silk screen : nicomix

Recorded on the lost floor of a tall building in Toulouse, with two huge terraces from which we could behold the greyness of the sky and the ancient churches of the city.

Musically and morally supported by my old pals Eliot, Florian and Renaud, I was recording my first album with excitement and angst.

Additional recording and mixing sessions were necessary, scattered along the summer of 2006, between a crowded flat in Lyon and a cozy family house in the countryside around Toulouse.

HE IS A SONG

the sea is a song
whose voice is silent
and i live among
it and play from the islands

let me tell you stories
about the pure world
let me tell you stories
about what i’ve heard

let me tell you stories
about black and green
let me tell you stories
about what i”ve seen

the sky is a book
where pages are all blue
the end is not written
but you all can see through

SHE’S NOT THE ONE

my baby smells bad in the morning
sometimes she snores at night
she cleans in mac donald’s for a livin’
no need to be proud

a statue is mute
has a body but no mind
my baby’s cute
she speaks all the time

she’s not the first
she likes to have her feet on earth
she’s not the one
she would hate to wear a heavy crown

to all the ones who dream of stones
of ideal women, look at mine
she’s made of tender flesh bones
and i can tell you she’s fine

“problems, defects, any vices ?”
yes, my friend and quite a bunch !
but how could you know how it tastes
if you never bite the lunch ?

an angel with golden wings
can’t even fly
my baby’s not an angel
she’s bad, sometimes she lies

a goddess can’t be touched
it lives high in the clouds above
my baby can be touched
but don’t try, i’m the one she loves

you can’t reach what you put too high
perfect is nothing
you should join us
you should try

MY FRIEND JED

tv’s bad it makes mad that you’re so glad to watch it with your dad
i’d rather escape to nature, search for pure and true adventure
but all the things you prefer are stored in a computer
you’re stuck in front of a screen jed
when i’d like to play on a green bed
you’re living in a fiction
when all i ask is a bit of affection

jed my friend jed
are you really never fed up ?
you’re only ten years old
but you act just like my old grandfather

i can still remember when
on the day that you were ten
your daddy gave you a box
with a label microsoft on it
it was a french trendy toy
that gave so much joy
happy clicking in a mouse
and stay couped up in a house

it was the end of a friend i knew here for a while

PILLS FOR THRILLS

calling out the name of a God
bliss is not the same in the blood

swallow shallow baby
follow me in shadow
swallow hollow baby
blood on the snow
dying you know
is part of the game

talkin’ ‘bout the pain of the drugs
over and over again ‘cause he shrugs

bills for pills for kills for thrills

THE NOISE OF YOUR FINGERS

it sounds like love
hammering on my heart
it sounds like love
coming back and hard

it sounds like bliss
drumming on my back
this real sweet kiss
makes me forget black

i can hear your fingers running on me
i can hear your fingers running on my body

it sounds like you
knocking on my lips
from black to blue
on your ocean hips
where i send my ships

LOCKED / LOST

i’ve been locked into seven houses
i’ve been cut into hundreds of faces

i may be wrong to knock on that door
i may be wrong to climb on that wall

i’ve been lost in blue streets of prison
i’ve been chocked by your sweets of poison

THE KEYS

the keys are broken
or maybe stolen
the fact is that you can’t open

i’m outside in the wild for a while