In the yard, the neighbour who lives below me
Dribbles a ball, while chatting quietly
On the window, the rain forms crosses
I hurry, and the memory of a day starts up again
When we were normal, spitting at the wall
I return to myself, in front of this side of the lake, which knows nothing of adventure
I feel ill, I've got complexes
I'm oval, I'm convex
I'm dying, I've still got some fight left in me
Fireworks, fire of jubilation
For rent or for sale
My flesh is tender
To my right, the great fire
It's not wrong to have said that to you
To my left, a movement of the crowd
Of debauchery, the beginning of a new world order
Carousel, carnival
A flag of red, white and blue
Until a lava of ???*
Or a liberal witticism
Turn Asia to fire and blood
I feel ill, I've got complexes
I'm oval, I'm convex
I'm dying, I've still got some fight left in me
Fireworks, fire in the loins
For rent or for sale
My flesh is tender
In my soul, an arc of a circle
Where some children of the century catch fire
Under the seat, the train schedule
Light a candle, and fill yourself up
To rent or to sell,
My flesh is tender