Une Autre Histoire D'amour Lyrics in English Tim Dup

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Une Autre Histoire D'amour by Tim Dup from French to English.
Where are you at this moment Me, late
I walk the corridors
In search of what, I don't know
Miss, I dig you and you know it
Let me take you away
We'll find a hideout
Sheltered from the world
Sheltered from lack
Between the dew
And shooting stars
I'm not the kind of guy To
Sit next to you
You freeze and break me
There's something in you
That prevents me
From anything
I just want to take you
In the hollow of the waves
The waves crashing
On your sleeping body
In the wind's waltz
And the noise of the night
We'll defy statistics
Ignoring the percentages
Of chances for me to
Unhook your bodice
In the middle of a storm
I'm not the kind of guy to
Sit next to you
You freeze and break me
There's something in you
That prevents me
From anything
No, I'm not the kind of guy to
Sit next to you
You freeze and break me
There's something in you
That prevents me
From anything
From anything
I just wanted you to follow me
In the
Of
Listening to old Jazz from the twenties
In pursuit of nothing
But you wanted my cake
The best of both worlds
And my a**
But it pays for miseries
To offer flowers
To offer drinks
I'm not the kind of guy to
Sit next to you
You freeze and break me
There's something in you
That prevents me
From anything
I'm not the kind of guy to
Sit next to you
You freeze and break me
There's something in you
That prevents me
From anything
From anything
Lyrics and Translations Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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SONG MEANING

Tim Dup’s Une Autre Histoire d’amour feels like slipping into a late-night daydream where fantasy and reality wrestle for the steering wheel. The narrator bursts through echoing corridors, forever en retard, chasing a magnetic woman who both freezes and shatters him with a single glance. He pictures a secret hideaway far from the buzz of the world—somewhere between morning dew and shooting stars—where waves, wind and jazz from the 1920s compose their own private soundtrack.

Yet behind the poetic runaway plan lurks a sharper truth. While he craves simple, reckless romance, she seems to want everything at once—“his butter, the money for his butter, and the dairymaid’s behind.” The song swings between hope and disillusionment, painting a bittersweet portrait of modern love statistics, impossible expectations and the courage it takes to dream anyway. Listening feels like reading a love letter scribbled on a train ticket: impulsive, vulnerable and utterly human.

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