Holy John
Acrobat
Mister the President
Here's a letter you'll probably read
If you really have guts
I just had a phone call from my old man
And he said to me that the police came home
I don't want to imagine what my father told them
The police, the military, the priests,
He shits on 'em, probably more tham myself
He can take some, he's not afraid about his opinions
So, he said that you are looking for me, the country needs me
That's silly, I'm in my holidays, it's sunny, I'm not going to war
I'm here with my friends, some weirdo ecologists
We're reparing an old bicycle
We take care of our garden
We build some stuff for the old ones but work isn't for us
We've got plantations, not that big
Of an herb that makes us forgot this silly world
Mister the President
I'm a deserter of your army of nipples and your herd of shakers
They won't have my skin, they won't touch my hair
I won't hand a flag, I won't march like those no ones
I won't go to war
Be a silly in a casern for twelve months
With other stupids
I don't like your discipline, I don't like to get up early
I don't like to kill men
An what's thw worst it's that I don't like war
And who makes it, well it's the military
They're dull, ugly and a nasty piece of work
And now I'll tell you why I don't want to be like them
When the Russians and the Yankees will blow the planet
Well I'll be malignant on my bicycle
With my water and food rations
And my protection line
So get away from my friends and I
I'll never be your soldier
I don't like the sound of marching boots
Your nuclear bombs and fearing submarines won't scare me
Don't image Mister the President
That I'm manipulated by the Reds of the Whites
I'm only a little militant for the socialists
For the whales, the Earth and the Water for my children
Mister the President, to conclude this letter
I'd like to tell you that my friends and I are making some pastas
You are invited if you want to come
We'll smoke a spliff and then we will talk about the world
------------------
Condamn? par le doute, immobile et craintif
Je suis comme mon peuple, ind?cis et r?veur
Je parle ? qui veut de mon pays fictif
Le coeur plein de vertige et rong? par la peur
***I'm going to the May 27th gig in Montr?al. If some people want to meet me, well then just say it. Cheers
Here's a letter you'll probably read
If you really have guts
I just had a phone call from my old man
And he said to me that the police came home
I don't want to imagine what my father told them
The police, the military, the priests,
He shits on 'em, probably more tham myself
He can take some, he's not afraid about his opinions
So, he said that you are looking for me, the country needs me
That's silly, I'm in my holidays, it's sunny, I'm not going to war
I'm here with my friends, some weirdo ecologists
We're reparing an old bicycle
We take care of our garden
We build some stuff for the old ones but work isn't for us
We've got plantations, not that big
Of an herb that makes us forgot this silly world
Mister the President
I'm a deserter of your army of nipples and your herd of shakers
They won't have my skin, they won't touch my hair
I won't hand a flag, I won't march like those no ones
I won't go to war
Be a silly in a casern for twelve months
With other stupids
I don't like your discipline, I don't like to get up early
I don't like to kill men
An what's thw worst it's that I don't like war
And who makes it, well it's the military
They're dull, ugly and a nasty piece of work
And now I'll tell you why I don't want to be like them
When the Russians and the Yankees will blow the planet
Well I'll be malignant on my bicycle
With my water and food rations
And my protection line
So get away from my friends and I
I'll never be your soldier
I don't like the sound of marching boots
Your nuclear bombs and fearing submarines won't scare me
Don't image Mister the President
That I'm manipulated by the Reds of the Whites
I'm only a little militant for the socialists
For the whales, the Earth and the Water for my children
Mister the President, to conclude this letter
I'd like to tell you that my friends and I are making some pastas
You are invited if you want to come
We'll smoke a spliff and then we will talk about the world
------------------
Condamn? par le doute, immobile et craintif
Je suis comme mon peuple, ind?cis et r?veur
Je parle ? qui veut de mon pays fictif
Le coeur plein de vertige et rong? par la peur
***I'm going to the May 27th gig in Montr?al. If some people want to meet me, well then just say it. Cheers
