Friday, June 27, 2014

Jacques Brel - Next

Original Title: "Au suivant"
Naked in my towel
that I used as loincloth
I had red at the forehead and the soap in the hand
I was only twenty and we were hundred and twenty
to be the next of the one we followed
I was only twenty and I was losing my innocence
at the strolling brothel that is an army on a campaign
I, I would have liked a little bit more tenderness
Or then a smile or have some time but...
It has not been Waterloo no no but it wasn't Argonne
It was the time one regrets to have missed school
But I swear that to hear that warrant officer of my ass
It's worth having a bash to make armies of impotents
Next...and to the next one
I swear on the head of my first pox
that this voice I hear it all the time since
This voice that smelled garlic and bad alchohol
It's the voice of nations and it's the voice of blood
And since every woman when succumbing
between my too skinny arms seems to whisper me
All the followers of the world, should give the hand to each others
This is what I shout at night in my frenzy
And when I am not delirious I come to tell myself
That it's more humiliating to be followed than to follow
One day I will become legless cripple, or nun, or hangman
Well one of those things where I will never be anymore
The next one...The next one

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