La mort du loup
Read La mort du loup lyrics by Gilbert Becaud on LyroVerse, with linked artist context and related song paths.
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La mort du loup
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Le vent cogne les sapins
Le petit matin griffe la forêt de Pologne
Un loup qui court
Le souffle court.
Solitaire il s'enfuit devant les fusils
La neige est un ghetto d'hiver
Un grand linceul
Le loup est seul.
Chasseurs habillés de blanc
Chasseurs qui tuent pour passer l'temps
Avec leurs fusils infra-rouge
Rouge sang.
Le vent chante vers le nord
Et ça sent la mort
Dans cet enfer à moins quarante
Et comme les corbeaux
Les hélicos.
L'homme n'est pas en danger
Le loup ne tue que pour manger
Les loups tuent pour ne pas mourir
Les hommes tuent pour le plaisir.
{x2:}
A l'instant de faire feu
Ils ont dans les yeux
Des lueurs froides du Klux Klux Klan
Des carnassiers, le loup le sait.
Sur sa peau un petit point rouge
Un éclair bleu, plus rien ne bouge
Le loup est mort en point de mire
Les hommes tuent pour le plaisir.
What this page can answer fast
Who performs "La mort du loup"?
Gilbert Becaud performs "La mort du loup", and this lyric page sits inside the Gilbert Becaud catalog on LyroVerse.
Are there related songs to explore after "La mort du loup"?
Yes. The related section below points to Ce monde t'attend and Pour oublier quoi with a short reason for opening each page next.
Where can I find more songs by Gilbert Becaud?
Use the artist link near the top of the page or the related paths section below to keep moving through Gilbert Becaud's lyric pages.
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