There's Paris, the Capital, sniffing its own butthole
Intra-muros it's brilliant, outside it's for the peasants
Besides, if there was only one left, it would surely be that one
As dumb as the moon and pretentious, as it should be
But Paris, it's still in France, the French remain French,
With their ankles on display, their navel unsatisfied!

In Rennes where life is good, I saw - forgive me,
Masses of drunk crowds, syringes full in their arms,
One night, something amusing, on the road, believe me
The police joking about a corpse on the roof
But Rennes, it's still in France, the French remain French,
With convalescent kidneys, lungs full of regret

Then there's Bordeaux the bourgeois with its grand cru classé
That we taste in ecstasy, in grand New York venues
Which tells its memory what is good, what is bad
If for Papon, it's a black hole, for the Girondin it's a success
But Bordeaux, it's still in France, the French remain French
Left-wing cowards in a trance or mute right-wing fools

In Toulouse, the pink city, maybe they're a bit chauvinistic?
When they're not chattering about pink, they talk to you about the Toulousains,
They have a dialect of course, which they sometimes use,
To write on the walls of a factory: "Never again"
But Toulouse, it's still in France, the French remain French,
Ducks that dance in the summer to "afro-ugly" rhythms

Then there's Marseille, with its charming port,
Its beautiful Mediterranean, its sardines and herrings
Like a tiny village, a sunny hamlet,
Which has only one disadvantage: being full of Marseillais!
But Marseille, it's still in France, the French remain French,
Big mouths you think of, when you want peace

Between the Rhône and the Saône, there's Lyon and its reflections
In the suburbs, there's its zone, its smells and its waste
Its famous gastronomy, which wants to make us forget
To avoid disappointment, all those financial scandals
But Lyon, it's still in France, the French remain French
Good meals in competition, unspoken words on the palate

When I first knew Strasbourg
I thought I would find love in its streets
But there was suddenly a doubt in this somewhat silly city
Where they talked to me about sauerkraut, Europe, and flammekueche
But Strasbourg, it's still in France, the French remain French
Equality in "freelance", humanity trying

There's Lille in the North as there's the North in Lille
Big, strong men or inbred idiots
The grand planetary projects that spend without worrying
A stone's throw from the misery of little mined children
But Lille, it's still in France, the French remain French
Heaps of arrogance, inequality at the top

After this geographical tune, a little explanation
I'm not looking for slaps, I'm not looking for a fight
But when I see from afar those waving their flags
The great race of chauvinists, right next to the fascists,

Well, I who was born in France in an unknown place
I don't understand the madness, I don't see the ideals
Of those who think of birth as a tie, a ghetto
Forgive me this offense and translate it into these words
From dust I came, to dust I return
From planet Earth, I wander without borders!
From dust we came, to dust we return
From planet Earth, we wander without borders!

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