In front of the green gate of his primary school
You spot him right away
Always the same look with his wool sweater
He's crying over the closure coming next term
Of his last two classes
They say the reason's a lack of numbers
But we know what's really going on
The countryside, the drifters
The ones too far from Paris
The least of their worries
Wanting to lump the neighboring cantons together, 30 kids per room
That same philosophy that turns the country into a shopping mall
It wasn't enough that we've lost the grocery store
That the doctors took off
There's nobody left in town
Just banks gleaming on Main Street
The countryside, the drifters
The ones too far from Paris
The least of their worries
How sad the village is with all those roundabouts
That make heads spin
How sad the playground is without kids screaming
Balls at the windows
Even the little baker wonders what she'll do
With her sticky candies
Even the neighbor across the street is scared, it freaks her out
This silence in the school
The countryside, the drifters
The ones too far from Paris
The least of their worries
When in the upper spheres, ministry hallways
Students are just numbers
There are people on the ground, chalk all over their hands
Who get treated like underlings
Those suit-and-tie guys who shut the schools
Are very often the ones
Who'll never look, not from far or near
The countryside, the drifters
The ones too far from Paris
The least of their worries
The countryside, the drifters
In front of the green gate of his primary school
There's the village teacher
Building them a tomorrow