Champ D'Honneur

Ha-ha
Ha-ha
Ha-ha
Ha-ha

There are days when it's all too much, the cup is overflowing
Bad news, a string of disasters
When you just want to disappear, put an end
To this life of toil and hardship
Without any more remorse
Than an old dead horse

But whether you fall on the field of honor or not
No more vanquished than victors
A beautiful return to sender
Of the Stations of the Cross with flowers

Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)
Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)
Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)
Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)

There are nights of guaranteed insomnia
When you toss and turn in your bed
On the horizon, neither solution nor escape
And in your body, a strange inertia
No more spring
Than an old herring saur

Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)
Dou-dou-dou-dou (ha-ha)
Dou-dou-dou-dou, dou-dou-dou-dou

Whether you fall on the field of honor or not
Whether you're quickly forgotten, whether you're mourned
There's no price for pain
And no more vanquished than victors

Before we kick the bucket (ah-ah)
There, all of a sudden (ah-ah)
To empty one's bag (ah-ah)
Just like that, in no particular order

Whether you fall on the field of honor or not
No more vanquished than victors

Peter, Paul, or Jacques
The crisis, the crash
Damn mess
Nothing in the bins (ah-ah)
Massive attack (ah-ah)
The fire on the lake
Happy Easter