I stood in line at the soup kitchen
I stood in line in front of the urinals
I stood in line in the perverse little corners
With my student-military discount
I'm sick of waiting in line
I'm sick of waiting in line
I've been waiting in line with my backpack
At the don't-have-100-balls? Among the schizo babas
I stood in line to play the hero
With my spiked helmet and my bicycle clips
I I'm tired of waiting in line
I'm tired of waiting in line
So I start dreaming
That I'm a pair of carmé pants lite
That no one can touch
Without drowning in holy water
I stood in line to show solidarity
From bastille to   nation, from the front, from behind
I queued with the whole of France,
With the weekly touch-touch on Saturday evening
J I'm tired of waiting in line
I'm tired of waiting in line
I queued with my number,
My car and my dog , my wife and my fridge
I stood in line at my psycho-dad's house
Who helps me stand in line at my alter-ego's house
I'm sick of it waiting in line
I'm sick of waiting in line
So I dream of being a gun
A bazooka, a bomber
Or even more a minefield
Or you would come and blow yourself up
I stood in line to look for the light
At Darty, at Moon, at Glucksman, at Jobert
I waited in line to heat my spoon
With the crazy desire to finally be alone
I'm sick of waiting in line
I'm tired of waiting in line
So I dream of being a tomb
With dim lights
Or I could count my bones
Waiting for eternity
Oh, yes! I dream of being a tomb
With dim lights
Or I could count my bones
Waiting for eternity ©

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