Tarmac la ballade des gens qui sont ns quelque part

It's true that all these little villages are pleasant
All these towns, these hamlets, these localities, these cities
With their fortified castles, their Churches, their beaches
They only have one weak point and that is being inhabited
And that is being inhabited by people who watch
The rest with contempt from the top of their ramparts
The race of chauvinists, of cockade wearers
The happy imbeciles who were born ©s somewhere
The happy fools who were born somewhere
Cursed be these children of their motherland
Impaled once once and for all on their bell tower
Who show you their towers, their museums, their town hall
Make you see the native country until you squint
Whether they leave Paris or from Rome or from Sète
Or from the Vauvert Devil or from Zanzibar
Or even from Montcuq they flatter themselves mazette
The happy imbeciles who were born ©s somewhere
The happy fools who were born somewhere
The sand in which their ostriches snuggle
Bury their heads we find no more end
When the air they use to inflate their balloons
Their soap bubbles are divine breath
And little by little there they are climb
The neck up to think that the dung made by
Even wooden horses make everyone jealous
The happy fools who are born ©s somewhere
The happy fools who were born somewhere
It's not a commonplace that of their acquaintance
They wholeheartedly pity the unlucky ones
The clumsy little ones who did not have the presence
The presence of spirit to see the light of day in their home
When the tocsin sounds on their happiness near ©caire
Against the foreigners, all more or less barbaric
They come out of their holes to die in war
The happy fools who are born ©s somewhere
The happy fools who were born somewhere
My God it would be good on the earth of men
If we met this incongruous race
This unwelcome race which abounds everywhere
The race of local people, local people
How beautiful life would be in all circumstances
If you hadn't shot © of nothingness all these bastards
Perhaps proof of your nonexistence
The happy imbeciles who were born somewhere
The happy fools who were born somewhere