Paroles et traduction Mouloudji - Tout fout l'camp (live)

Tout fout l'camp (live)

Y a plus d'jeunesse, y a plus d'saison
Y a plus d'printemps, y a plus d'automne, y a plus
D'façons
Tout fout l'camp
Y a plus d'enfant
Y a plus d'famille, y a plus d'morale
Y a plus d'civisme
Plus d'religion

Tout fout l'camp
Y a plus d'pognon
Y a plus d'pitié
Y a plus d'moisson
Plus d'charité
Y a plus d'joie d'vivre
Y a plus d'gaieté
Y a plus d'travail
Y a plus d'santé

Y a plus d'chanson
Y a plus d'chanteur
Y a plus d'bonheur
Y a plus d'boxon
Y a plus d'boxeur

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus d'français
Y a plus d'rosière
Y a plus d'fontaine
Y a plus d'chalet d'nécessité

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus de vrais hommes
Y a plus de drapeau
Y a plus d'Afrique
Y a plus d'colonies
Y a plus d'bonniche
Plus d'savoir-faire
Plus d'tradition
Plus qu'des affaires

A quoi bon
A quoi bon hurler
A quoi
Quoi bon gueuler

A quoi bon
A quoi bon s'griser
A quoi bon
Quoi bon s'bomber

A quoi bon
A quoi bon s'muter
A quoi bon
Quoi bon s'faire muter

A quoi bon
A quoi bon l'répéter
Le monde n'est plus ce qu'il était

Y a plus d'soleil
Y a plus d'chevaux
Y a plus d'romance
Y a plus de bon air
Y a plus d'essence

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus Paris
Y a plus de halles
Plus d'bords de Seine
Plus qu'des autos
Plus qu'des problèmes

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus d'maison
Plus qu'la télé
Y a plus d'trottin
Plus qu'du tapin

Y a plus d'blés d'or
Y a plus d'louis d'or
Y a plus d'conscience
Y a plus qu'des banques

Y a plus d'bon pain
Y a plus d'bonne viande
Y a plus d'fromage
Y a plus d'poulet
Y a plus d'vrai lait

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus d'amour
Y a plus d'serment
Plus d'clairs de lune
Plus d'galanterie
Plus que la pilule

Tout fout l'camp

Y a plus d'ferveur
Y a plus qu'du sexe
Y a plus d'fleur bleue
Plus qu'du pince-fesses
Y a plus d'héros
Plus d'héroïne
Y a plus qu'du hasch
Et d'la morphine

A quoi bon
A quoi bon hurler
A quoi
Quoi bon gueuler

A quoi bon
A quoi bon s'griser
A quoi bon
Quoi bon s'bomber

A quoi bon
Adorer la vie
A quoi bon
Quoi bon quoi qu'on s'dit

A quoi bon
Puisque c'est fini
Ou c'est moi p'têt' moi qui vieillis

Everything's Going to Hell (live)

There is no more youth, no more seasons
There is no more spring, no more autumn, no more
Ways
Everything's going to hell
There are no more children
There is no more family, no more morality
There is no more civic spirit
No more religion

Everything's going to hell
There is no more money
There is no more pity
There is no more harvest
No more charity
There is no more joy in life
There is no more gaiety
There is no more work
There is no more health

There is no more song
There is no more singer
There is no more happiness
There is no more ruckus
There is no more boxer

Everything's going to hell

There are no more Frenchmen
There are no more rose gardens
There are no more fountains
There are no more outhouses

Everything's going to hell

No more real men
There is no more flag
No more Africa
No more colonies
No more maids
No more know-how
No more tradition
Only business

What's the use
What's the use of screaming
What
What's the use of yelling

What's the use
What's the use of getting drunk
What's the use
What's the use of getting high

What's the use
What's the use of mutating
What's the use
What's the use of getting mutated

What's the use
What's the use of repeating it
The world is not what it used to be

There is no more sunshine
There are no more horses
There is no more romance
There is no more fresh air
There is no more gasoline

Everything's going to hell

There is no more Paris
There are no more markets
No more banks of the Seine
Only cars
Only problems

Everything's going to hell

There is no more home
Only TV
There is no more trottin
Only streetwalking

There are no more golden cornfields
There are no more gold louis
There is no more conscience
There are only banks

There is no more good bread
There is no more good meat
There is no more cheese
There is no more chicken
There is no more real milk

Everything's going to hell

There is no more love
There is no more swearing
No more moonlight
No more gallantry
Only the pill

Everything's going to hell

There is no more fervor
There is only sex
There is no more blue flower
Only pinching
There are no more heroes
No more heroin
There is only hash
And morphine

What's the use
What's the use of screaming
What
What's the use of yelling

What's the use
What's the use of getting drunk
What's the use
What's the use of getting high

What's the use
Of loving life
What's the use
What's the use of whatever we say

What's the use
Since it's over
Or maybe it's me, maybe it's me who's getting old