"Soleil" drops us into that restless window between late night and dawn, when the mind loves to replay every insecurity. Anabel admits she is wide-awake at 3 a.m., tangled in worries about missed chances, unspoken words, and the relentless feeling of never being "enough." Over a smooth, almost dreamy beat, she calls out to the sun ("Soleil")—a metaphor for hope and self-acceptance—asking if it will still find her despite the darkness she feels.
As the hours pass, the song widens into a bigger coming-of-age confession. Anabel talks about the pressure of growing up, saying that becoming a woman comes with no roadmap, just a plain ceiling in a Paris apartment that doesn’t feel like home. She peppers the anxiety with humor—there are so many sheep to count she could knit a wool sweater—yet the underlying question remains: will the light finally break through? "Soleil" captures the clash between self-doubt and the stubborn belief that morning will eventually arrive, turning the track into an honest, relatable anthem for anyone who has ever waited for the dawn inside their own head.