Chamallow is a playful yet bittersweet snapshot of a flirtatious encounter on the Paris Métro. Ycare and Ouidad slip into the skins of two complete strangers who lock eyes between Châtelet and Trocadéro, each spinning anxious day-dreams about what the other might be thinking. Their thoughts bounce around like movie scenes: Am I too old for this? Is she really looking at me? The pair compare themselves to marshmallows – soft, sweet, a little clumsy – slowly melting under the warm, cramped breath of the underground carriage.
Beneath the teasing banter, the song explores vulnerability and missed chances. The singers poke fun at generational labels (“Boomer”), nervously hide their wounds behind jokes, and wrestle with the fear of actually taking a risk. Just as they finally muster the courage, the train doors slide shut, ending the moment before it ever really begins. Chamallow reminds us how fragile human connection can be: a sugary rush that disappears the second reality pulls into the next station.