I am the laughing stock of everyone
The turkey of the joke
People have no pity for the crazy ones
No one looks me in the face

Because I have pustules and
Tanned cysts that stain
Herpes on the face
Dandruff in the mustache
I have wrinkles
I stink but I forget while
Tasting pistachios
Ridiculous like a gymnast who hesitates and
Who falls at the beginning of the competition
I have guns that spit out
Flat water or marbles
The thugs hide
I'm less robust than a flea
Or a slug
In the car, I vomit in the turns
Admiral of a ship without a crew
In hermitage, only child without inheritance
Seasoned under the mistral
I pour Sprite into
Crystal glasses
I customize pizzas by adding
Chips and salted butter
I spout a bunch of
Lame lines like: "Hasta la vista, baby"
I'm lewd and wobble when the crazy
Girls say: "Get out of here fast
You're ugly" I'm borderline dirty
I follow sadomasochistic rituals late in my car
And I poorly imitate the walk of Aldo
Maccione in Bora Bora
I've hit on Hungarian transvestites
Hunted cold dragons, robbed barons
Squatted on swings keeping
My arms crossed
Sometimes, I believe in myself but
When I cross my reflection, taken with terror
I tell myself that no one will ever
Want to put a ring on my finger, no!

In my room
I have posters of Charlemagne
I go on vacation on the West Coast, yeah
I love Brittany
I never read the newspaper except
Mickey's, gollum, Sinok
Elephant Man are three of my nicknames
My sex is short like the career
Of a snuff movie actor
As soon as a chick smiles, I come
My sperm smells like rotten egg
I stain my khaki baggy pants
At my place it's like Nagasaki
In '45, yes
I store my clothes in shopping carts
To fall asleep
I count dust sheep
Smoking big spliffs so
My lungs are all green
I'm called a clown because I confuse
Dance and blues and I mow the
Lawn with a nail clipper in addition
I got stung by a
Scorpion in the middle of the street
I play tic-tac-toe alone
That way I don't lose anymore
I sing like Bernard Lavilliers
Ramble like Arlette Laguiller
I'll probably end up stoned without
Having known friendship

A fortune teller read my palm lines
And apparently
I will survive a fall from
More than a hundred and twelve floors
Opulence should cross my path
But I'll be dead before
Crushed by an ambulance
In traffic jams
I have lazy fingers
Already white nose hairs
Yet I often drink Evian
And gobble up flans
I don't do this for show-off I have
No euros but francs
When I take my mean voice
It makes people laugh I must admit
I really have no passion
Being teased all day
Is my only occupation
My urologist mocks me
At each consultation
Even blind nymphomaniacs avoid me
Even during ovulation
I defecate in urinals while
Making some weird noises
I dance the cha-cha-cha on
Black masses: what despair!
I prepare omelettes with
Epoisses cheese and porcini mushrooms
I'm fed up, I'm too lame
I need to iron my socks

VIEW ORIGINAL LYRICS