RMI [English translation]

What's going on? Nothing, it's personal

An eternal pain that I'll only share with the sky

The green-eyed monster, synonym of jealousy

Taxes water in the Sahel desert just to fill his jacuzzi

And that's the way it works in this hard-working world

The biggest cowards throw the first stone and then they hide

As ordered, co-ordinated, God orders us to pardon them.

I pardoned them. Gave love that nobody would give me back.

But why? Why? Blame the biz,

Blame the [dollar] bills, my son. Your vice becomes a motto

This millennium is monetary. The populace unpopular

You'd think The Golden Calf was running a promotion on a global scale

It justifies treachery. Trickery.

Economy is ever more wolves in the sheep-pen.

Is it the scumbags that we adulate? The kids of adults

Inculcate themselves with the new cult and catapult it round the globe

African choirs

And even the marginal leaders are selling baseball caps

Sneakers. A supermarket-based religion

My neurons are pushing and shoving, speeding like sperm cells then bam!

And in the people carrier, that was Ayrton Solaar!

In the slums people are dreaming about IMF funds

But deep down we know that families run closer to welfare minimums

The kids pinching from wallets to get themselves Pokemon

The era is bleak. Satan's stock is rising in value, I can see his pointed horns

But you were talking millions... of Saint-Emilions

But since there are thousands of us how many will be humiliated

The History of Art seems to be all dollar-coloured

And as Rico says, "This business is run by ham-fisted art-holes"

Apart from that, what's new? Nothing new, just bluff. I'm widowed.

With girls maybe you need to act all rough and tough

Give kisses and stay chilled like Jesus Christ

Or pull out the kriss let the 666 slip us in the abyss

And music? Do I like it? They want to put it in prison.

Imagine Cupid shooting poison arrows

It's a free space ... and they're putting it in a corner

Nails, pop clones, clowns, clans of garden gnomes.

That's why I always sit opposite to Pontius Pilate

Ricochet on the beat like a flat stone across water

Throw Surats and Psalms. Under the banner of the gnome.

With no chrome, a smile in my heart, boom in their home.

In the slums people are dreaming about IMF funds

But deep down we know that families run closer to welfare minimums

African choirs