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Musical: Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris
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Naked as sin, an army towel Covering my belly Some of us blush, somehow Knees turning to jelly Next, next I was still just a kid There were a hundred like me I followed a naked body A naked body followed me next, next I was still just a kid When my innocence was lost In a mobile army whorehouse Gift for the army, free of cost Next, next Me, I really would have liked A little touch of tenderness Maybe a word, a smile An hour of happiness But, next, next Oh, it wasn't so tragic The high heavens did not fall But how much of that time I hated being there at all Next, next Now I always will recall The brothel truck, the flying flags The queer lieutenant who slapped Our asses as if we were fags Next, next I swear on the wet head Of my first case of gonorrhea It is his ugly voice That I forever hear Next, next That voice that stinks of whiskey Of corpses and of mud It is the voice of nations It is the thick voice of blood Next, next And since the each woman I have taken to bed Seems to laugh in my arms To whisper through my head Next, next All the naked and the dead Should hold each other's hands As they watch me scream at night In a dream no one understands Next, next And when I am not screaming In a voice grown dry and hollow I stand on endless naked lines Of the following and the followed Next, next One day I'll cut my legs off Or burn myself alive Anything, I'll do anything To get out of line to survive Not ever to be next Not ever to be next.
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