Fasten your imaginary seatbelt and climb into Dionysos’ whimsical Volkswagen Beetle ― or should we say ladybug? In “Coccinelle,” the French band turns a humble car into a fantastical creature with wings, mint-flavored wipers, and leather seats hot enough to “cook” on. The singer clings to this battered fairy-car like a kite in the wind, splashing through puddles and painting the sky with rainbow-tinted eyelashes. Every quirky image celebrates childlike freedom, sensory delight, and a love so strong that even dents and cracks feel magical.
Yet behind the sugar-rush poetry, the repeated line “Je ne sais pas conduire” (“I don’t know how to drive”) hints at vulnerability. The narrator may be steering through life — or love — without a license, guided only by imagination and trust in his beloved coccinelle. The result is a playful ode to embracing our clumsiness, letting creativity replace control, and believing that with the right companion, even the most chaotic road trip can feel like flying.