Sonnez tocsin dans les campagnes [English translation]

Toll the tocsins in the country

Forward march, comrades

Delves of spade and outlooks

Between the sky and the cement

Cocktails in cars

Special forces in a round dance

Certainly no one will go to paradise

Besides those who burn in alcohol

Our safe alleys

Seem like graveyards

Viruses rioting on the hemispheres

And iPhones stuck in the sphincter

Our alcoves are satellite-controlled

Who am I between the virgins

Lead me to the storm

The brakes failed on the hillside

Toll the tocsins in the country

Forward march, comrades

Between illusory ballots

And the screams from the shambles

For here they fear everything

Mayflies over the great lakes

Once this land was a fire of cultures

Sleeping pills against anger

You need band-aids for misery

The young were nursed at the breast

Of the dictatorships of our needs

Of the rulers' cynism

Because the good people is content

Because they cry for police in all directions

Especially to protect the money

Spring to arms, citizen of tears

What can I say except from that it's time

To free the horizons

From our military array

Ahead of us lies the future

For something better within reach of our fists

And spring under snowflakes

There's hope in our songs

So let's march to the great road

Under burnt out shadows

To make the sulfur content rise

In the channels of the nice quarters

In the fairy tales for my kids

The loneliness is on pain killers

and carbon in shipwrecks,

The oil tankers are looking for the beach

In the fairy tales for my kids

The loneliness is on pain killers

And the police in the paradise

Of a world dying on credit

To the lambs slaughtered in the distance

To the remote chant of the cock

At the edge of the vast cornfields

My country is rising its fist

Urged to the skirts of the forest

The little thumbling asks himself why

His parents abandoned him

In the fierce wind of the communicating

The time of the scholars is up

As is the time of the popular

The time of the litterateurs is up

The Latin roots are finished

Under the good pretext of our origins

The holy paroles are over

It's over with the neither-good-god-nor-master

The chant of the nightingale is over

Forgotten the time of the lilies of the valley

It's over with the hail-my-brother

Welcome, paradisiac times

On the bank accounts

Welcome, paradisiac times

On the bank accounts

Spring to arms, citizen of tears (x4)

Spring to arms, citizen of tears

What can I say except from that it's time

To free the horizons

From our military array

Ahead of us lies the future

For something better within reach of our fists

And spring under snowflakes

There's hope in our songs

So let's march to the great road

Under burnt out shadows

To make the sulfur content rise

In the channels of the nice quarters

In the fairy tales for my kids

The loneliness is on pain killers

And carbon In the shipwrecks

The oil tankers are looking for the beach

• Artist:Damien Saez
• Album:J'accuse