Sync Different

THE STEELWORKER

Music by Julien Vega
Lyrics by John Greaves & Julien Vega

Hip Hop perched up on a beam
Way above the crowd
I’m as happy as I seem
Sitting on a cloud
Hip! I’m at the top
Hop! On top of New York

Tough guys throwin’ steel around
Way above the ground
Like they are dancing with the
Joists and the girders
1,2 and 3 and 4
Hoist! Up to the next floor.

Working for my pay
Like any other guy
Just another day
For cowboys in the sky

Down there tryin’ to make a buck
I ran out of luck
Man I hardly got to eat
Just a bum on the street
Up here I’m the guy to meet
I’m mister Rockefeller

Hip Hop sitting on a cloud
Way above the crowd
I’m as happy as a clam
Betcha life I am
Hip! I’m at the top
Hop! On top of New York

Tough guys throwin’ steel around
Way above the ground
Like they are dancing with the
Joists and the girders
1,2 and 3 and 4
Hoist! We’re going up
Up to the top floor.

COCONUT TREE

Music by Julien Vega
Lyrics by John Greaves & Julien Vega

I’VE BEEN TO PARIS AND LONDON
IT’S ALL WORK THERE’S NO FUN
PUSHING, SHOVING ALL AROUND
NOBODY’S HAPPY I’LL BE BOUND

I’VE BEEN TO MOSCOW AND TO TORONTO
NEVER SEEN SO MUCH SNOW
THIS IS NOT THE PLACE TO BE
10 BELOW IS NOT FOR ME

THE SEA THE SUN AND THE COCONUT TREE
THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO SEE
THERE’S NO BETTER PLACE TO BE
THE SEA, THE SUN AND A COCONUT TREE

ONE THING I’M SURE OF
I NEED SOME MORE OF
ENCORE, ENCORE OF
THE SEA THE SUN AND THE COCONUT TREE


I BEEN TO TOKYO AND NEW YORK
ALL THEM SIGNS SAY STOP DON’T WALK
I JUST WANT TO FLY AWAY
BACK TO WHERE THE STEEL BANDS PLAY

THAT IS ALL THAT I WANT TO SAY

THE SEA THESUN AND A COCONUT TREE
THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO SEE
THERE’S NO BETTER PLACE TO BE
THE SEA, THE SUN AND THE COCONUT TREE

GOLDEN BOY
Music by Julien VegaLyrics by John Greaves & Julien Vega


On the floor of Wall Street I’m one of a kindI’m no ordinary guyIf I sell or I buy I don’t even tryI can make a million dollars in the blink of an eye

Making a fortune is easy for meHow hard can it be?
I’ll probably never get old
Everything that I touch turns to gold


I’m flying high, I’m a fortunate guyBut try as I mightThere’s something that doesn’t sit rightAnd I think I know why


One thing I know that my money can’t buyThat’s love, think about it

Making and breaking and takingDoesn’t matter how big your greed is


When what you need isSomeone who’s pretty and witty and niceWho’s life doesn’t turn on a roll of the dice
Who not so convinced everything has a price
I don’t think twiceThat’s what I need
Making a fortune is easy for meHow hard can it be?Excuse me but I’m on a rollYou see that all that I touch turns to gold
I’m flying highI’m a fortunate guyAnd I don’t know whyI simply don’t burst into songOnly one thing is wrong
One thing I know that my money can’t buyThat’s love, think about it

Making and breaking and takingAll you do is feed what your greed is


When what you need isSomeone who’s pretty and witty and niceWho’s life doesn’t turn on a roll of the dice
Who’s not so convinced everything has a price
I don’t think twice
I knowLove is what I need

Tu n’as pas su m’aimerComme l’on doit aimerEst-ce un refrain de poète
Qui t’a fait perdre la tête
?Le temps passe et pourtantMalgré moi je t’attendsEt dans Montmartre la nuit
Levant les yeux je me dis
:
Tant que tournerontLes ailes en rond,Du Moulin de la GaletteMon cœur chantera,Comme auprès de toi,La chanson des jours de fêteQuand dans le faubourgLes yeux pleins d’amourSur moi tu posais la têteQu'elles sont joliesBrillant dans la nuitLes ailes du Paradis

Depuis ce jour mauditJe traîne dans ParisEt dans le moindre visage

Je recherche ton imageLes jours semblent si longsQu' au fil des rues sans nom
Si le cafard me chahuteJe regarde vers la Butte

English translation :
Moulin de La Galette
You couldn’t love meLike you should
Is it with the poet’s refrainThat you lost your head?Time goes by and stillI wait for you despite myselfAnd in Montmartre at nightRaising my eyes I say to myself:
As long as
Windmill blades of the of the Moulin de La Galette
shall turnMy heart will singLike when I am near youThe song of the feast daysWhen in the faubourgEyes full of loveYou leant your head on mineHow pretty they areShining in the nightThese wings of Paradise
Since this accursed dayI roam the streets of ParisAnd every faceI seek your reflectionThese days seem so longthat on street after nameless streetIf the blues takes holdI look toward la Butte (of Montmartre)