We are all born of love in this old country
Where only old, very old monkeys sit
At the controls of our liberties
At the switches of our integrities

So let's hit our noses
That always makes them [bad word] on, let's hit each other
That always brings them a lot of money
When they sell us knives
And insane ideas
So that our little lives cover themselves
In violence and hatred
So what, we will sleep outside
Under the bridges, under the bridges of gold
That others built to go from their kitchen
To their living...
 [bad word] Their living room
It's no pudding, it's no wind
It's the living room of the old wise monkeys
Living living living room

We are all born, my friend
We are all alive/living, it's written
In our eye, you see, it glows
desire for life, a desire

To travel the world
This great Earth, so round
But no, but no, see how they scold us
Because without permit
You mustn't let yourself go

Dreaming of another life, my friend
No, you mustn't dream
Because to dream, you need permits
Of paper, to live your life

On the other side of the bridge, of the golden bridges, outside
There are tons of them, it's not that we don't know about them
Because we often see them go from their kitchen
To their living...
 [bad word] 
There you see, if you think about it, how
We all have [bad word] elephants
Gnus, giraffes, orang-utans
Under surveillance in our reservations
And to make sure we don't get lost
As a herd or even all alone, isolated
In the next reservation
You are sure to stumble upon a bone/os...

Osteopath for whom it is the first time

And who will dismember you, it's his job
To take away your desire
For forbidden travels

Forbidden in our old country
Where only old, very old monkeys sit
In their kitchen they are pondering
How to improve their living...