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Come home, I live at a friend's place

My heart's like a sponge
Made for young ladies
Thankfully, 'cause my mug
Isn't exactly pretty
I pick up everything I see
Cousins, sisters-in-law
I have a devil in my crotch
My job is 'womanizer'
As soon as I meet a bird
I tell her: Hey you, how are you doing?
 
Come home, I live at a friend's place
From all angles, I admit I'm a bit of a creep
 
I faff around left and right
With my sleeping bag
I'm a part of every bad plan
Every disaster
I have friends who have money
Well, they're working, that's normal
Me? My job is 'lazybones'
Hey dude, spare me twenty bucks?
I have plans, strategies
To live like a bee in clover
 
Hey come home, I live at a friend's place
From all angles, I admit I'm a bit of a creep
 
I've even been a student once, I've been
Unemployed, babysitting
And to think my parents
Wanted me to be a doctor
Sometimes when I have cash
I misspend everything like a jerk
I haven't earned that money
No, see, my job is 'loser'
Wow, gorgeous redhead
Hey you, how are you doing?
 
Hey come home, I live at a friend's place
From all angles, I admit I'm a bit of a creep
Hey come home, I live at a friend's place
My mattress is in the kitchen
So you can come if you like, no problem
Hey come on
Come home, I live at a friend's place
Hey come one girl
Hey come on- no?
Oh well, ok
 

What will be, will be

What will be, will be
Tomorrow is never far away
Let the future come
What will be, will be
Only time can tell
 
A promise just arrived
In the crib of an old castle
Belonging to an astonished princess
To whom it came by to sing:
 
What will be, will be
Tomorrow is never far away
Let the future come
What will be, will be
Only time can tell
 
The young girl who we saw
Growing up and dreaming asked:
'Tell me if I'll love anyone, mama'
And her mum said:
 
What will be, will be
Tomorrow is never far away
Let the future come
What will be, will be
Only time can tell
 
When the lover of her loves came by
The young lady asked him:
'Will you always be faithful to me?'
And the boy sang:
 
What will be, will be
Tomorrow is never far away
Let the future come
What will be, will be
Only time can tell
 

Willy Fog's ballad

It's night out on the suburbs,
Willy finally opens his eyes.
There had been a trap at dawn,
maybe smashes.
He gets up, washes, gets his clothes done,
his jacket and his gun.
He's in pain, too bad,
the party.
 
Night round
in the black alleys.
Funny life
for Willy Fog
The cop.
 
Baston at the Voltigeur,
not good, I'll go you on time.
I don't weigh in on my own without the buddies.
and I don't have my handcuffs.
Direction the Intermarket

Corona Song

Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
 
Straight out of China, one day you showed up
Get your ass back there, so they can confine you
In that country, where they eat dogs
Bats and pangolins
 
Me behind my lousy tv
Switching between BFM and LCI
I can't seem to stop running into Arlette Chabot
Or the poor Roselyne Bachelot
I can't do this any longer, being stuck at home
I want to see the world, how am I supposed to do that?
I want to catch a breath of fresh air
I want to go meet up with nature
 
[Refrain]
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
 
The worst still, is that these scumbags
Have closed down all my bars
I can't drink my water as I chill out
With my buddies, it's hopeless
Not even a small restaurant
Closed down in the name of confinement
Joining the queue with these jerks
For a miserable MacDonald's menu
The checkout assistants at Intermarché
Have had it, and I feel their pain
They're masked all day long
As for their salary, tell me about it
 
[Refrain]
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
Mad virus
Coronavirus
 
Honestly, this noble Doctor Raoult
Painted black by jealous colleagues
By the bigwigs and hotshots
Who have the balls to waste money
 
Hear this, Douste-Blazy, sir
Don't always spew garbage
This world is full of rascals
Who see evil almost everywhere
I've got antibodies in abundance
But I've also got anti-idiots
It must be said that in France, there are loads of them
 
[Refrain]
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
 
Fortunately, in these dangerous times
You have spared kids
You haven't laid a finger on children
The little innocent beings
Stayed out of school, for a time
To experience some merry moments
Without cronies, without pals
Just their Nintendo consoles
Be gone already, stupid virus
Kill our american friends
Oh shit, they've got another disease
Donald Trump, and his stupidity
 
[Refrain]
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
Mad virus
Coronavirus
 
Coronavirus
Such a dumb virus
Mad virus
Coronavirus
 
Such a dumb virus
 

Mistral Gagnant*

Versions:
To sit on a bench five minutes all both
And watch people while they are there
Tell you good times that died or will come back
In squeezing in my hand your fingers
Then give feed to some silly pigeons
To give them kick but for fake
And hear your laughter makes walls crack
That especially knows heal perfect my wounds
Tell you a bit about how I was young
The fabulous candies we stole from merchant
Licorice bags, fifty cents caramels and mints
And the 'Mistral-Gagnant'*
 
To walk into the rain five minutes all both
And look at life while it's there
Telling Earth in devouring you with eyes
Tell you about mom but just minimum
And jump into the puddles to make her moan
To ruin our shoes and snigger
And hear your laugh like one hears ocean
Stops and turns around,
Tell you yesteryear caramel bars and 'coco-boers'*
And real 'shells with jam* was lips cutter
and was teeth breakers
And the 'Mistral-Gagnant'*
 
To sit on a bench five minutes all both
To watch the sun go elsewhere
Talk about good times that died and I don't care
Telling you bad people aren't us
That if I'm crazy it's only of your eyes
Because they've advantage being twice
And hear your laughter that fly also high
That the cries of the birds which away fly
Tell you finally you have to love life
and love it even if time is a killer
Without discernment takes children's laughter
And the 'Mistral-Gagnant'*
And the 'Mistral-Gagnant'* ...
 

Welcome Gorby

He was not born the guy who will make me
Say that I have tenderness for kings
Or for leaders
They all deserve, in history
The wrath of my black ink
But Gorbachev
Is a great little guy
Against whom I have yet
No grievances
No one deserved more than him
The Nobel Prize for Shortage
And brokeness
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To hope
What are you going to come with your tanks
Free us
 
You knocked down the Berlin wall
If you don't know what to do with the concrete blocks
For your guidance
There is room here, my friend
Around all ministries
All barracks
It will prevent the plebs
One day hang all these nutcases
At the lamp post
Although for once it would be fair
To contemplate these poor sods
The face at half mast
 
Here there are chains to break
Start with TV channels
It would be swish !
That you rid us a little
Of this 'Big Brother' of my balls
I trust you
You can also liquidate
Puke-worthy FM radios
That rock us
From our hydrocephalic singers
And their fecal poetry
The indigence
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To hope
What are you going to come with your tanks
Free us
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are, I think
A friend of mine and then me
To hope
What do you have with your tanks
Surely wouldn't want to stay
 
He was not born the guy who will make me
To say that I have tenderness for kings
Or for the chefs
You all deserve it in history
The lightnings of my black ink
But Gorbachev
Is a great little guy
Against whom I have not yet
No grievances
No one deserved more than him
The Nobel Prize for Shortage
And fishing
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are, I think
A friend of mine and pi me
To hope
What are you going to come with your tanks
Deliver us
 
You knocked down the Berlin wall
If you don't know what to make concrete blocks
For your guidance
There's room here, my cushy
Around all ministries
All barracks
It will prevent the populo
One day we hang all these barjots
At the lantern
Although for once it would be fair
To contemplate these poor claims
The face at half mast
 
Here there are chains to break
Start with TV channels
It would be Byzantium
That you rid us a little
Of this 'Big Brother' of my two
I trust you
You can also liquidate
FM radios to stack
Who rock us
From our hydrocephalic singers
And their fecal poetry
All the indigence
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To hope
That you're gonna come with your tanks
Sweep everything
 
You can build, if you come
Some gulags on the banks of the Seine
Urgently
Here is a packet of pests
That blow our consciousness
Fuses
BHL and Foucault
Not the philosopher, no, the other idiot
Dorothée
Very nice, BTW
I would say more exactly
Very dense
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To hope
You're gonna come shut the face
To these half-wits
 
We have here, it's very practical
Some psychiatric hospitals
That you can empty
To fill them with psychoanalysts
MPs, journalists
And the Musclés
It's gonna be a hell of a job
But if you want collaborators
Don't be afraid
You know, apart from my audience
In every Frenchman lies a cop
You just have to draw
 
If you are tired of communism
I'm not telling you about capitalism
It's so dope
How we are manipulated
Intoxicated, on files, manipulated
By these assholes
Come and contemplate our idols
They are a little bit more rock and roll
Than your Lenin
Bernard Tapie and Anne Sinclair
'With that you'll understand our misery
Is legit
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To hope
That you will come to eliminate
Our motherfuckers
 
Welcome Gorby, welcome here
Where we are numerous, I think
A friend of mine and also me
To assume
That if you came with your tanks
Surely they wouldn't want to stay.
 

Where have I put my gun ?

I want my songs to be caresses,
Or else punches in some faces.
Whoever my aggression is to (1 ),
I want to shake you in your armchairs.
So listen to me a bit,
paper pushers and pig breaths,
Squares, folk enthusiasts, journos.
Since there's my name in your papers,
Since they see my face on TV
Where I sell my poisoned soup,
You got a bit too much on my nerves.
I'm not singer for my friends
And I can be nasty like a dog.
I declare not with Aragon
That poets are always right.
Women are cunts' future
And men are nothing's one (2 )
I have my own future on the counter
Of a top filthy dirty bar,
Hell, where have I put my gun ?
I shall not have my head messed with
By fascists, by leftists,
All them poor indoctrinated guys
Who put my rebellion in the tomb.
All those who call me a rabble-rouser
In their rags I'd never read
'Renaud is dead, he fell into their hands'.
All those terminal petit-bourgeois
Who don't speak, don't write, who drool,
Who will live old their pathetic lives,
Have all a corpse in their mouths.
Anyway, I don't sing for those losers
And they haven't heard the last of me.
That's surely not a gold record
Or an Olympia all to myself (3 )
Which could make me change tack,
Which could shut my mouth.
As long as there will be hate in my needles
I shall sing but for nutcases,
Hell, where have I put my gun ?
It's not only kids in the street
Who stick to my ass for a pic'
There are even cops who salute me,
They want me to sign in their hats.
I spit in them and scream out loud
That marine blue makes me puke,
That I don't like work, justice and army.
They shall never see me walk
With the bastards who cast their votes,
To choose the one who'll make them die.
Those kind of days I stay in bed.
I don't care about the crass struggle (4 ),
Every system is disgusting !
I can't stand flags,
Though the black one is the prettiest.
La Marseillaise, even the reggae cover, (5 )
Always made me puke.
Military marches mess me up
And I do fuck your Republic,
Hell, where have I put my gun ?
Since my pocket knife was taken away
One night at Saint-Michel Station,
I no more set foot in protests
Without a nunchaku or a cocktail (6 )
At Longwy as at Saint-Lazare,
No more slogans facing the cops,
But rifles, paving stones, grenades !
To yell at repression
Marching from Bastille to Nation (7 )
When my bros die in jail,
That gives somme good conscience to cunts,
Pig breaths and paper pushers
Who put my rebellion in the tomb.
If one day I fall on the floor,
Surely it shall be Baader's fault.
If I die with my nose in the gutter,
Surely it shall be Bonnot's fault. (8 )
For now, my face is on the counter
Of a top filthy dirty bar
But watch out !
I have my hand around my gun !
 

Fucking truck

Fuck, that's a bummer
That fucking truck
What was it doing there ?
Fucking shitty life
You rolled in grass
And as for ourselves, you walk out on us
I hope that up there at least
There are many less bastards
You leave us with dogs
With nasty ones and morons
Under a sun which shines less bright and less far
I'd cower in a corner
With Marius, with Romain (1 )
To weep with them until the cows come home
Fuck, I'm angry
Against that bend
And against that very day
When you slammed.
To think that it was Summer
In my head it's cold.
I hope that up there at least
You bought a bike
Lolita has no more godfather (2 )
We ourselves have no more best pal
You were a clown yet not a puppet
Bastard, we used to like you
Now we are all orphans
Fucking truck, fucking fate, look that sucks
Bastard, we used to like you
Now we are all orphans
Fucking truck, fucking fate, look that sucks (3 )
 

Mint With Water

When the Mary I loved
was coming in
in my nest, in the month of May,
I never had a toothache.
From all Mary emanated
the beautiful, the sweet, the cute,
but in my small change
There was not the word million.
Mary was not a grand mother
she liked my wig,
my mimicry, my marinière,
and my mammoth ways
Friends of my beloved
were amusing me, but let's go
starched clothes,
they gave in the can.
But Mary, my muse, my queen,
was not a mass of men,
the muse and the lover barely
if I can express myself that way.
It's decided, tomorrow,
I have amazing ideas,
I will ask the hand
of Mary, if it enchants him.
If I liked his raffle,
if it ever falls into the water,
my lover will become,
Well see, the lover to the water.
 

The Song Of Louts

The day rises on my suburbs
I'm cold it's not winter yet
What could I do for Gods sake?
I do not have a round and I do not look
serious, serious
 
I'm a lout among many others
I'm not sleeping far from the Defense
I look dirty, it's not my fault
My HLM is not Byzantium
My friend, my friend
 
At fourteen, my father
Hired me at the factory
Two days later I left
Seems I'm an unworthy son
 
One evening in a deserted street
I mowed a Honda 500
To an honest bourgeois son
With her I go to 200
Yeah that's nice, it's nice
 
My friend Pierrot crashed
On the highway on a rainy day
Sometimes I hear him laugh
It's sure he's in heaven
It's swollen, it's swollen
 
And I continue my film like life
At the foot of these shabby buildings
I'd like to die before I'm ugly
I would like to finish like you my old Gavroche
 
I'm a peripheral lout
I'm full of the boots of this city
France is a shitty suburb
As my friend Mohamed says
With cops, With cops
 
The day rises on my suburbs
I'm cold it's not winter yet
It's funny the bitumen is all blue
There's my bike that cracks on the floor
Good God, good God
Oh, God
Oh my God, good God
 

I am a gang of young people

My friends are all in prison,
or the army or the factory.
There are some bikes,
There is no more youths, it depresses me.
So to put a little atmosphere
in my old debris neighborhood,
I grouped all my intellectual
knowledge, and ever since
 
I am a gang of young people
All alone.
I am a gang of young people,
I make my own fun.
 
I am the boss and the sous-chef,
I am Fernand the funny,
I'm the little fat guy with glasses,
I am Robert the big guy.
There is no more problems with hierarchy
because it's always me who's in charge,
it's always me who i obey,
you need discipline in a gang.
 
I am a gang of young people
All alone.
I am a gang of young people,
I make my own fun.
 
When I go to the local bistro
and a guy wants to attack me,
well, I immediately intervene,
it's beautiful solidarity.
When I meet Pierrot's gang,
There are many more,
it's like fighting in Chicago,
it is true that in his gang there are two.
 
I am a gang of young people
All alone.
I am a gang of young people,
I make my own fun.
 
When in my gang there is are fights,
I telephone myself, I'm make myself a meal,
I am doing a conference I am meeting.
It's me who speaks and it's me who listens.
Sometimes I shout for a cargo hold
What's in love with all my band,
So sexuality of the gang,
There's nothing like that to get along.
 
I am a gang of young people
All alone.
I am a gang of young people,
I make my own fun.
 
When I ride on a moped,
They call us the savage gang,
Fifteen decibels is the storm
In all the neighborhood.
And what if a day in the suburbs
All my band is decimated
By a whole bunch of old people,
I will fight to the last, because
 
I am a gang of young people
All alone.
I am a gang of young people,
I make my own fun.
 
I'm a poor lonesome young gang,
I feel alone
I'm a poor loneome young gang,
I break my break.
 

Duh

I have a friend that has a lot of money
He is a musician
He plays the electric guitar
With me on stage
When he plays too hard
He makes Arsène
So I told him you're doing Arsène rupine
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Wooden cross, iron cross
If I lie I go to hell
The guys who say I was born
On a tanker truck
Because my legs are arched
And it seems that his is seen
I'll say it's bullshit
Because the truck
It was not that dull
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Wooden leg, iron straw
If I lie I go to hell
The other day I wake up with a hangover
I had a dirty face and my eyes were dark
I looked at my eyes and I said to them like that
Appointments you are surrounded
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Wooden horse, iron curtains
If I lie I go to hell
It would seem that a guy
Who bleaches his hair
He looks like a tranny and it's ridiculous
Like the tramps
When we go back
I think it's normal
It's the tramps of recule
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Hangover, railroad
If I lie I go to hell
With my twin brother
We're really like each other
But must say that we two
He is the most resembling
The day of our birth
Two beetles died
As soon as a child comes into life
An old man comes out
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Paul Préboit, Gaston Defer
If I lie I go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Robin Hood, Rochereau d'Enfer
If I lie I go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
In life you must not do without doing
If I lie i go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
We can say that we can do well
If I lie I go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Iron Cross Wood Cross
If I lie I go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
Yes the place or the reverse
If I lie I go to hell
Duh
I swear it's true guys
 

It Is Raining

You can not leave, it's raining
It's going to wet your hair
I know you'll be pretty anyway
But still you'll be gone
Me, I shall hardly be left with
My pain and my desire
To throw you some punches
And some kisses too
 
Watch out, outside it's not any better
There is hate in everyone's eyes
There are some very dangerous bastards
And happy fools
I am a thousand times better than them
To treat your little bruises
You can not leave, it's raining
It'll get your hair all wet
You could have waited a little
I was going to be old
You can not leave, it's raining
It'll get your hair all wet
 
You can not leave because
You're not allowed it's not the game
It had been said that both
We would stay near the fire
You could have waited a little
I was going to be old
You can not leave, it's raining
It'll get your hair all wet
 
You can not break, I love you
To slash my veins
And first of all, that's enough
We do not break down at six and mid
Come on, ok, you won
I turn on the TV
But you can not leave, it's raining
It'll get your hair all wet
 
You can not leave, it's raining
It's going to wet my eyes
 

In Love With Paname

Listen to me, you nerds
Saturday night ecologists
This song is not worth a nail
But I sing 'just for you
You who want beautiful grass
Beautiful lawns, little sheep
Vine leaves and small flowers
You should put your watches to the right hour
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah, it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
Listen to me, you nerds
Ecologists of the Boulevards
Your beautiful speeches are tireing
There's sun in the streams
The Montparnasse Tower is beautiful
And I love the Eiffel Tower
There's a lot of love in the alleys
And poetry in the skyscrapers
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah, it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
Listen to me, you nerds
Great evening ecologists
Pollution is not in the air
She's on your pale faces
Me, I still like the pissotières
I still like the smell of garbage
I do not smell of oxygen
Carbon dioxide is my hygiene
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah, it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
Listen to me, you nerds
Saturday night ecologists
This song is not worth a nail
But I sing it just for you
You who want beautiful grass
Beautiful lawns, little sheep
Grape leaves and small flowers
You should put your watches to the right hour
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
Listen to me, you nerds
Burrowing Ecologists
Your beautiful speeches are tiring
There's sun in the streams
The Montparnasse Tower, she is beautiful
And I love the Eiffel Tower
There's a lot of love in the alleys
And poetry in the skyscrapers
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
Listen to me, you nerds
Great evening ecologists
Pollution is not in the air
Its on your pale faces
Me, I still like the pissotières
I still like the smell of trash
I do not smell of oxygen
Carbon dioxide is my hygiene
Me, I'm in love with Paname
Concrete and macadam
Under the pavement yeah it's the beach
But bitumen is my landscape
Bitumen is my landscape
 

Near The Bumper Cars

I knew Pépette
At the bumper cars
She, she had number seven
And I had number twelve
Hers was green
And mine was green (too)
She was good, the Pépette
And it was her job (she was good!)
 
I asked her 'Do you come often
To the bumper cars?'
She told me that she came often
That made her happy
She asked me 'But why
Are you asking me that?'
I responded 'But why
Are you asking me that?'
 
We went to drink a beer
Near bumper cars
She looked very happy
In her yellow dress
She was not really that boring
She was not awful at all
I had vicious ideas
Under my yellow hair
 
I offered to Pépette
A bumper car ride
She, she kept the seven
I took over the eleventh
The boss of the bumper cars
Who was very kind
He put on background music
He put us Johnny
 
While my idol was singing
The entire penis gates
The little cars were spinning, spinning and spinning
And I was doing it on purpose
To hit into Pépette
Same as a shot, without doing it on purpose
She sprained her head
 
We went to drink a beer
Near bumper cars
She looked a lot less happy
In his ugly dress
She looked less in love
She said to me thoughtfully
I have to go to my landlady
What a disaster
 
I left the Pépette
Near the auto-buffers
I asked him but Pépette
Is that your real name
She told me 'Are you stupid'
It's my nickname, poor idiot
My real name is Zezette
But it's a bit long
 
We ate together
A chocolate ice cream
She, she took raspberry
And I did not eat anything
I wanted an ice cream made of meat
Yes but there were none left
Not even one of minced meat
But it flows along the cornet
 
We went to drink a beer
Near bumper cars
I found her suddenly hideous
Her dress with moth holes
I told her 'You know little pisser
I prefer bumper cars'
You are not luxurious enough
But tell me, what time is it
 
Lalala Lalala Lala ... What time is it
Lalala Lalala Lala ... What time is it
Lalala Lalala Lala ... What a bitch ...
Lalala Lalala lala ...
 
[Fun fair animator]
And let's go fans of speed, roll-roll little cars, we laugh we have fun at Disneyland!
No. 112 wins an inflatable E.T. or VCR ... Cardboard
Little Delphine is waiting for her mom next to the merguez stand
Attention, the owner of the 504 Pigeot registered 4012 QQ 75 is asked to move it, it hinders the coach of the Communist Party
And it's still a soldier who wins a net garnished with a bazooka in it!
Let's go youth, we laugh we have fun ...
The person who lost a leather wallet is asked to report it
 

La pêche à la ligne

It's hardly dawn
and I fall from the pen
My love is still sleeping
anvil sleep
 
I leave her to her dreams
where I'm not sure
Marlon Brando removes it
What the hell am I doing here?
 
On a wild horse
they go away, ridiculous
Outside there's a thunderstorm
they are wet, it's bad
 
I'm sharpening my fishing pole
to go fishing
Bag on the shoulder
sausage, cold beer
 
When the sun comes
my love wakes up
The heart adrift,
eyes full of sleep
 
On the phone to her mother
who is her best friend
Ephemeral words
and little worries
 
I would love to hear
what she says about me
It is surely very tender
well, I do not hear
 
I plant my hook
at the top of a branch
I pull on the nylon
ruin a phalanx
 
The day advances a little
my love is putting on makeup
One eye and then both
it's futile but it shines
 
Who does she want to seduce?
I'm not even here
I kill myself to tell her
that she is better off without all that
 
That her eyes are clearer
when they are in my pocket
and that wanting too much to please
It's the pleasure of the ugly
 
I'm going out a trout
at least one hundred and twenty pounds
I have pity, too small
I throw it back in
 
It is past noon
I come back empty-handed
Too much wind, not enough
the water was too humid
 
So I go home
sad as a menhir
But nobody is there
to hear me lie
 
My love is gone
but gone forever
I lost my love
and I lost my life
 
I will take Sunday
if i can the girl
tangle in the branches
to angling
 
I will take Sunday
if I want the girl
tangle in the branches
to angling
 

I hugged a cop

There were millions of us
between
Protestants and Catholics
Muslims, Jews and atheists
Under the benevolent gaze
of a few thousand cops
in solidarity with Charlie 1
 
And then I saw marching by
a few notorious crooks
Presidents, under ministers
and other inglorious bigwigs
and I saw, and I saw
a cop standing by the pavement
with a friendly air
So, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop 2
 
I hugged a cop
between Nation and République
I hugged a cop
It makes a change from truncation blows
Thirty years ago I’d never have believed
that rather than flinging
cobbles at them with all my might
I’d hug one to my chest
Because I walked up to him
Yes, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop
 
We were marching towards Nation
fraternal and peaceful
Under the benevolent gaze
of a few thousand cops
And the snipers on the roofs
made gestures of friendship
and solidarity
with their arms
So, to thank them
and for the first time
in my anarchist’s life
I went and hugged a cop
 
Yes, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop
Yes, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop
Yes, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop
Yes, I walked up to him
and I hugged a cop
and I hugged a cop
 

• 1. Those 12 journalists at who were murdered in 2015
• 2. Of course 'embrasser' generally means 'kiss' but that doesn't feel right here. I feel he approached him and took him in his arms. There may well have been a little cheek-kiss too