Coeurs Abimés (which means Bruised Hearts) invites us into the neon-lit streets where sleepless, lonely souls drift toward the club in search of quick cures for hurt feelings. Madame Monsieur describe that familiar moment when you cannot bear the silence of your bedroom, so you follow the beat, press your body against strangers, and let the pulse of the music replace the ache in your chest. Under the “artificial moon,” tears are allowed to fall, salt mingling with sweat, while anonymous embraces make you feel both weightless and real for one dazzling second.
Yet beneath the glitter, the song gently asks what truly happens inside our damaged hearts once the night falls. Dancing offers a temporary metamorphosis—muer, to shed old skin, change your name, wash everything clean—but the refrain reminds us that the pain is only blurred, not erased. Coeurs Abimés is a bittersweet anthem of nocturnal escape, celebrating the fragile comfort we find in shared loneliness and the fleeting hope that, just for tonight, the dance floor can heal us.