Au suivant

Naked in my towel that served as a loincloth
I had a red face and soap in hand
Next in line, next in line
I was just twenty years old and we were a hundred and twenty
To be the next in line of the one we followed
Next in line, next in line
I was just twenty years old and I was losing my innocence
In the mobile brothel of an army on campaign
Next in line, next in line

I would have liked a little more tenderness
Or maybe a smile or just to have time
But next in line, next in line
It wasn't Waterloo but it wasn't Arcole
It was the time when you regret not going to school
Next in line, next in line
But I swear, hearing that sergeant of my buttocks
It's enough to make armies of impotent men
Next in line, next in line

I swear on the head of my first venereal sore
That I hear that voice all the time since
Next in line, next in line
That voice that smelled of garlic and bad alcohol
It's the voice of nations and the voice of blood
Next in line, next in line
And since every woman, at the moment of succumbing
In my too thin arms, seems to whisper to me
Next in line, next in line

All the next in lines of the world should join hands
That's what I shout in my delirium at night
Next in line, next in line
And when I'm not delirious, I end up thinking
That it's more humiliating to be followed than to follow
Next in line, next in line
One day I'll become a cripple or a servant or hanged
Finally one of those things where I'll never be
The next in line, the next in line