We burst out, in numbers, we pour out onto the plain
In hundreds, in millions, in billions or in thousandths
From a few simple drops to human tides
Dawn eruptions to illuminate emblems
Lanterns in the head, if we plunge into darkness
They call us "faggots", "whites", "ragheads" or "niggers"
We live in retaliation, we think afterwards
We live outside the walls so we come through your sewers
We are cargoes of veiled women, shrill ululations
Rastas, turned caps, cautious thugs
Hopes hung, murdered paradises
Exhausted parents giving birth to despised kids
Noisy brats, little curly snots
Fattened with benefits that give reasons to vote
Find scapegoats, slaughter them for Eid
Die in a clearing without fatigues for this country
The poster is blood red, and Manouchian is not from Auvergne
The infantryman doesn't give a damn, he impregnated your grandmother
We invest in Brongniart, back to the wall like Jean-Pierre Thorn
We don't care about the grand evening because the night is too dull

We don't even want the sun and eclipses to make love
So that the moment is brief, intense like a fruit that we savor
To miraculous weapons we have read Césaire and Prévert
We will come to wage war with you with explosive words
We no longer designate the enemy, because he is everywhere even in us
We will die standing because we have lived on our knees
We are deaf to slogans worn out by too many protests
We become arrogant we want to rhyme like knives
We are no longer 20 but we will never be 60
Because we eat bisphenol at the time of a suffocating planet
They make us children to forbid us to fight
So no, pan Peter-Pan we will become adults again
We have trapped our rages between merit and inheritance
And the powerful confiscate what the poor share
To their musical chairs, no one plays, no one sits
We occupy the ground, being indignant goes without saying
Angela ké fend'tchou aw while your dad is not there
We will open the doors of Soledad or Attica
Pharmaco-dependent on GMOs to dope us
I spat out the plate, mounted the horse and galloped
Robbed a RER-diligence; the Apache of Belleville
Will come to cry for revenge like Balavoine arrives in town
They want to assign us places, and make us bleed
Lovers on public benches will never stop loving
Since our checks look like handshakes from Montoire
We will not let anyone speak in the name of our hopes
We are not victims, even less convicts
We will arrive from dawn in spontaneous eruption

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