It's not always fun, not always Sunday cycling.
It's not always June 28, end of classes and long windsurfing near the cicadas.
There are lots of unfunny days, parents, no humor at all.
That's why this time I want everyone who has a little voice to sing with me
All the children will sing,
(It's not too early, give us the microphone).
For the cowards who have become men.
(The big ones good evening, the little ones power).
For the disenchanted eyes of the big kids with mustaches that we are.
For you, for him, for them, for me,
For the children of other galaxies .
All the children are going to sing, you have to let yourself be tempted, sing too.
It's not always a holiday, beautiful music on musicassette.
There are mornings when it sucks , where life plays on a horse, sad refrain.
There are doomed years, full of nettles, I can't find the way out.
Don't undermine yourself, finished sighs, we're going to give you a big smile.
All the children are going to sing,
(It's not too early, give us the microphone).
For the cowards who have become men.
(The big ones good evening, the little ones in power).
For the disenchanted eyes of the big kids with mustaches that we are.
For you, for him, for them, for me,
For the children of other galaxies.
All the children are going to sing, you have to let yourself be tempted, sing too