Old Man [English translation]

1st guy (Shurik'N) :

It's been hours the wind is fitting on my marked and remarkable face

Like an old blues song incised on a broken disc

The eyes staring at the landscape's grey where, for many years, the green

Of the bills is staining the one of the grass, now full of embers

2nd guy (Faf Larage)

Time punishes, time makes wiser, makes memories prettier,

Nice precious urban symphony like a sapphire

The important's sighing when the streets let go

For the one who can see them their most beautiful show

(Shurik'N)

It's been hours and lives you're sitting on the bench, old as its bones

It's watching over the endless flow of guys lost, looking for a guy to blame

Looking for a burden to carry on, charmed the heads follow, cause they are thirsty,

They let a memory-tear from the time the Beast was hunted

Vice living at her feets, a flow of lava ignorant and blind

Straying in that stream of flesh you find in every house like God

It's been hours the wind strikes his eyes but nothing annoys him, the skies could crumble down, the Eden inspires no hope anymore, the heart is dying in the granary

Seatting here, is watching them going, they go fast to make their web, their sight is veiled and the precious as the individual ends like seen but not met

Lost for such a time, desappointed all the time he knows that

But stays and seats, begging for money on the Heaven's roads

(Faf Larage)

He knows in that theater there's only tangible things, scenes repeated every day

Actors play without cheating, natural all in all

Masses of strange names struggling against anonymous

Written on the walls as if they didn't care about laws

Knowing the authors, like every protagonist of every act, some even sleep in the vacuum,

It's been hours and lives !

It's been hours and lives he reads resignation as he walks down the streets

From the dirty blue jeans, from the suit to the dungarees

Cars and bus give the impression that they want to kill the walkers

Anger and joy fight for a piece of bitume

Sometimes we can see ironic banderols walking, it gets harder

And like in a rebroadcast, strenght is used to calm it down

Then will come faces from the old time for a vote

Scorn invocates each glory, and gives to another

The days pass, and people look alike

From tobacco to alcohol, vices are felt and he guesses whey

(Shurik'N)

Seating here, he has seen respect fail on marble

Pride makes fun of its guards, of justices with their rusted killer swords

Hands come together looking for the excuse for a life often gasped

True happy ends, it seems to me that's what he came to find