Inner voice of madness, you’ll never be in charge.
You are trapped here with me.
We know how relentless you are, the struggle to draw chaos, in our nice little houses.

This seems too quiet for you, as you sit in the fire with a creepy smile,
destroy everything in range. Just for the fun, for the rush.

Of course I fight back, try to clear your mess,
to suppress the noises.
But please don’t you worry, we’re in this together. Until the end, I’m afraid.

First it’s my hand, and then my arm.
My foot and my legs, it’s coming back to life.
Back from nowhere, my mind is an empty space.
Some kind of breeze is flowing again, in my limbs and my brains.

Look for the sun, and eat from the dirt, stand up and rise, and shine after all.

It’s time to wake up, let’s see around.
Still weak, but I can sit, and shortly I will stand up.
But where I am, and what’s this scene,
what’s this play, what’s going on?
What’s going on, is this my birth?

Look for the sun, and eat from the dirt, stand up and rise, and shine after all.

As far as eyes can see, millions of corpses
rising in lines, with confused faces.
We are crops in a fantastic field of dirt,
part of a useless machine, a matter of joy.
Looking for the sun, so we can grow, stand up and rise, and shine after all.

Let me in, please let me in.
I’m a nice one, see for yourself.
You will not regret this.
I certainly won’t kill you all.
I will behave, I just need some warmth.
I certainly won’t kill every single one of you.
It won’t turn into bloodshed.
You can trust me.

Everything in there is flying around,
all of my goods are messed up, my home is a wreck,
total devastation in a ceaseless violent dance.

I live inside a hurricane, my house is drifting in circular motions,
the tempest eats everything in sight, the soul is inside the storm. Look inside the storm.

Sometimes I want out.
The hurricane is all over the place.
Swirling forever and eating your world.

It’s raining outside, it’s raining mud,
through blurred light, tainted sky.
Maybe it’s night time,
maybe it’s dark time, no one can tell.
No one can tell, there is nothing to see.
You’re trapped in your room,
locked from inside, everything is gone.
It’s been ages, and yet, you didn’t move.
And you didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you’re standing still.
You’re standing still, you’re standing there.
Your fingers are branches, you heart is rubble,
your skin is paper, collecting dust, harvesting grit.
Stillness in time. Stillness in time.

No one will ever know,
the reaper will forget about you.
Death is everywhere, except in this room,
where time ran away.

No need to be afraid before this nightmare.
No need to be scared because it’s too late.

This little pool of guts, of feathers and bones… no more to be saved,
nothing can be recovered, this is no use.

One might think it would be beautiful,
a nice dream of red, white, pink and black,
where vines turn to strings, demise changes to something else,
where a horrific end leads to sudden grace.

Reality bites, don’t be sad, take my hand.

Runaway train. Breathtaking power.
Runaway train. Unstoppable strength.

I’ll unleash the steam and crash into you.
I’ll crash into you.

Steel and bones and blood and sweat.
I’ll be there in no time, to consume myself, and crash into you.

Walking down the street, drifting
and gliding above the ground.
This is quite a show, and everybody is staring.
You don’t seem to be aware,
the surreal mayhem in your path.
Concrete is crumbling, rainbows
are fighting, bubbles appear, out of nowhere.
Flowers are growing, along with metal trees, plastic grass and all sorts of frenzy crabs.

Leaning to the side, people everywhere, Cause we don’t get why you act this way.

It’s so beautiful, the whole world in slow motion,
in a mild state of dizziness, a quiet blast of colors.
It’s not easy to describe.

So good night for now, see you around.

My home is so small, it’s such a tiny place.
All the things I have is here, piling on top of each other,
leading to insane mess over time.
An insane mess where I stand.
Crazy mess where I live.
And I can’t breathe, as chaos devours the ground.
So I made a box, by myself, I was so proud.

The more things I put in there,
the more they fade out.
An anti horn of plenty filled
with some kind of tiny black hole.
A reverse cornucopia, I still can’t explain.
I’m sitting here all day,
with my antimatter box, and i can only see this,
those weirds snakes crawling around.
Now I live with the snakes, those friendly weird little snakes.

Same thing again, over and over.
Stuck in your head, like a nasty song.
This is getting out of control,
I can tell you that much.
You don’t need a treasure to find,
a quest to complete.
I know you’re missing something,
trying to be whole again.
But the missing parts are there, right before your eyes.
Don’t make me show you, this is ridiculous.

You would not believe, you would not believe me anyway.

Embrace the truth, there is nothing else.
Nothing else in this world, or even in your head.
Can’t you see you’re bearing the crown?

As rough as it sounds, the engine’s working.
Processes are running, the power plant is live.
No surprises, no surprises so far.
The devil’s in the details, the better days are over, every numbers are down.
Assembly line…

Replacing part, repairing bits, producing juices.
Eventually that won’t be enough.
Assembly line…

The world is so fast, while the clock is not.
The clock is ticking and the needle’s hard.
Assembly line…

And I miss you, I miss you so bad.
I miss everyone, and those days are gone.

Please tell me an adventure,
where I could be there, where we could be together again,
like this time, a while back…
Assembly line…

This is a story of men, a story of remains.
You heard it before with many names,
you heard it before so many times.

TV and radio are dead for so long now.
Weeks, months, years, who can even tell.
Cities withstand, walls are relentless,
decay is the new king, dust overruns.

But enough with this rant, you all know too well.
Let’s hear about the stars of this little play.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,
please welcome the DollMaker Tales’ cast.

Now, please enjoy this fine drama.

I gave up with naming all of you a long time ago, you just rejoin the herd, with all my love.
And now we are a family of mannequins, dolls, toys and junk…
and someday you’ll have to take care of me, as you are my children, as you owe me,
and I own you.

Putting arms and limbs together,
breaking elements apart.
As you all are my children, you are my design.

This empty tower will be my grave, you’ll have
to see it all. This empty tower will be our grave,
someday for sure.

This silent tower will serve as a museum,
until the very end, until the end of time,
until the end of days, the age of toys.

What a fantastic view.
Empty towers can be so cruel.
Seclusion is not for everyone.
But what an amazing view.

This is where I live, all by myself.
Not so long ago it was crowded with angry souls, funny animals and noises.
This tower is an extension of myself.
This is a part of me.
I spend most of my spare time enjoying the view.
Of course I see him, the building across the street, I’m watching him.

We are neighbours, somehow.
We have never met, I’m not sure he’s aware of me.
He’s spending all his days with dolls.
Fixing them, talking to them, and making some insane mess, this is quite a display.
The show of a chaotic mind,
maintaining some kind of social lie.

 Let’s not be mean. Let’s enjoy the view.

We walk, we lie, we steal, we laugh…
We hide in plain sight, it’s such an easy task,
and we never die. There are always some spare parts, always some junk to add, always a way
to stabilise our bones, our heads, our dresses.

He thinks we lack life, we are passive,
and nice, and all this crap.
And somehow it’s true, but in the dark,
we walk, we lie, we laugh, we scream.

In the shades, we fight, we brawl, we dance.

There’s no ambition here, we don’t like schemes,
we don’t like directions.
We just want to be, and walk, and crumble,
and have fun, and cry.

Our world is dry, the world is dry.

This is supposed to be
some kind of foundation,
this wreckage calls itself a museum.
You’ll have to see.
A creepy display,
assorted pieces of garbage.

What a disaster.
But maybe it’s not the point.
It claims to have a special value,
a historical message for the new generations.
But what does that mean, I wonder?

It claims to be the former house
of a glorious doll maker. A glorious ghost.

Some people say it’s true,
some other say he was just a junkie,
pretending a life, after the fall.

What do we make with that.
What are we supposed to do?
Or even care?
I’ll never come back here.

The sun is still here, alive as usual,
forging shadows for our gigantic towers.

Vacant towers, made from deserted souls,
from a distant story.

We live in there, privately, keeping our secrets.
As the day progresses, towers’ shadows are moving, like a sundial, over our dead cities.

Vacant towers, made from deserted souls,
from a distant story.

Nothing else is moving, as far as we know.
It’s safer in here, we are still alive.

The towers’ moving shadows,
a daylight event, a delight of peace,
while we wait for the cold, for the night.

We wait for the night. We wait for tomorrow.

We all watch from afar, trying to figure out,
to see through the mist, over the walls.
Who’s really there, where do we stand.
Because we are never far from confusion.
Never far from delusion.

Am I really a junkie, or a silent king?
Is the world really broken beyond repairs?

This is so demanding. I was never good at that.

If you find something, please let me know.
Please let us see, before pitch black.

I’m talking to myself,
I’m talking to my ghosts,
in my own private tower,
when I should be laughing.

Of course we cannot fly.
Still we can stare at the sky.
There is pretty much nothing else to do at night.
My dolls can wait. Off with the work now.
When the night comes,
it’s time for my break at the rooftop.
This is my time.

Drinking like crazy, blackout and stars.
It’s a nice change of pace, from an everlasting life.
But somehow I wonder, about my reality.
About the dolls, about what I do.
It may seems crazy, drinking alone out there.
I cannot tell, I cannot see,
with all this junk in my veins.

All the crap in my veins, all the booze I can take.
…

Today will be another day,
another one, maybe a change.
But for now let me enjoy my self.
Let me forget once again.

Just fall in love.
Just fall.
I'm just falling.
Death is waiting.
We are all waiting.
Dispair will come.
Just fall in love.

Party Strangers

Let me tell you about those weird guys living around,
this one is so secret he has to build those brick walls all over the place.
That one exhales a thick cloud of darkness that brings everybody down.
Another one is just lying on the ground.

This party sucks real hard!

This other one transforms our words into unspeakable mess,
everybody's laughing but who knows what it's for, what is it for…

This party sucks real hard!

They're chanting sometimes, they're crying sometimes,
you never know what are they up to, since nothing make sense,
I never figured out if they like each other.
They are good guys but still…
Maybe it's time to go.

This party sucks real hard!

Let me think about another plan…

Invisible Giant

There is a guy, he's not clearly defined,
but he's got arms, legs and everything.
Not sure if he really has a head, or at least a mind.
He's been here, always, for such a long time.
You gather flowers and mushrooms from his back.
A giant, with massive core and massive limbs
and some day you'll have to recognise him.

He can crush you, he can destroy you, and me, and them.
He will dash through your things and shatter your soul.
Don't say you didn't know, don't say you didn't see.

For now he's not moving, he's still as a rock,
you should leave him alone, maybe, I don't know…
But never think this invisible giant is not watching you,
never see him as a lesser one.

He can crush you, and destroy you,
he can break you, and tear you apart…

Night Ride

Buildings are moving,
pavements are sliding,
the night is young but I got to go home,
I got to come back, as I always do.

Once again kicked out from the gates of heaven,
I may come back, come back another day.
History repeats itself, what else can I do?

Concrete is moving,
roadways are sliding,
streets are unfolding,
the wave is vibrating.

Stubborn as hell, some stuff I'll never learn.
I will come back, again and again.
History repeats itself, wave after wave.

I don't mind being lost, just for a little while,
of course eventually I'll get back on my feet.

Once again kicked out from the gates of heaven,
I may come back, come back another day.
Despite the look on my face, don't think I enjoy the cold.

The gates are not shut,
no doubts I'll come back,
no doubts I'll try again,
as the brainless wave is still alive…

Table Rase
(Sylvie Frétet)

Tu n’existes pas.
Tu n’existes pas en dehors de moi qui veille.
Tu disparais dès que je sombre dans mon sommeil.
À l'aube, je ne trouve rien, aucune erreur, aucune crainte.
Rien à faire, de mon âme.
Ça ne m'intéresse pas. Ça ne m'intéresse pas.
De foutues pensées que je ne suis pas.

Touche, c’est encore chaud.
Tu ne me crois pas ?
J’étais couchée là.
Ah putain, tu t’es brûlé ?
Tu aurais dû me croire, quand je t’ai dit qu’il ne resterait plus que des cendres.
Je n’ai pas d’encyclopédie à vendre, pas de tragédie.
Tu n'as qu’une seule case sur ton échiquier.
Au mieux tu ne t’appartiens pas, au pire tu ne t’appartiens plus.
Tu savais que je cause avec la chair de tes repas,
que j’engloutis toujours les restes, je fais table rase.
Tu veux que je te file un peu de came pour calmer la douleur ?
Tu es foutu si tu reste figé là.

Table rase.
La tâche est remplie. La tâche est consumée.
Il est temps d'accepter l'indiscutable réalité.
Plus de début et plus de fin, il ne reste plus qu’à te réchauffer.

J’ai tué les voix, je les ai handicapées,
j’ai abstrait les mensonges, j’ai soustrait les médisances,
qui ne rapportent rien, rien que de la souffrance.

Oui mais pourquoi tous les objets se taisent.
Plus rien ni personne pour me rappeler qui je suis, tu as tout embarqué,
tu m’as volé mon obsession.

Si tu savais, j’en suis encore à tailler tes neurones, des silex qui me tuent à chaque fois.
Tu n’as que trois millions d’années, c’est rien dans l’éternité, juste un tour de magie

Je n’ai plus que des échos, parce qu’elle a déserté. Devant l’incendie, elle a renoncé.
Tu serais donc mortelle ? C’est ça que tu m’avais caché ?

T’as toujours rien compris ?
Ta tête a été bombardée. Plein de putain de cratères.
Tes sens sont enfouis dans des trous,
dans lesquels ta pauvre vie, tes pauvres années ont été englouties

Je ne suis pas mes pensées.
Tu ne peux pas m’atteindre.
Impossible, pauvre folle.
Je te renie, tu n’as jamais existé.
Tu n’as jamais existé…

Souls Delight

You poor soul, we've been watching you, for all this time, all your life.

Every small steps you think you made, all the marvels you claim.
We have seen it all, every part of it.
And you look so proud of youself, congratulations: you're a fool.
You're just a dog to us. Just a tool for our amusement.
As long as you will carry on, we'll be laughing, laughing hard.

Don't be upset, maybe some day you'll do something useful.
Maybe someday you'll come out with something remarkable.

Meanwhile, let us enjoy ourselves.
Let us feast, watching our favorite puppet show.

La Comptine des Cafards
(Sylvie Frétet)

Arrête tout ce boucan.
Jamais vu un bordel pareil.
Avec tous tes filtres magiques,
tes mythes et tes romances
Tu sais comment on vous appelle entre nous ?
Le peuple des barbares.

Nous, on ne connaît pas l’état de guerre, on ne sait pas qui a commencé.
Mais pauvre mec, les cafards ne chantent pas de comptines dégueulasses.

La pièce des cafards ne comporte qu’un seul acte,
sais-tu qu'il n'y a rien de plus vulgaire que de penser contrôler sa vie.
Tu accouche de tes créations, mais tu ne maîtrises rien.

T’es pas à la hauteur, contrairement à nous.
C'est vrai que t'as fait les choses en grand,
que t'as dessiné de jolis cercueils,
que t'as illustré et colorié tes testaments

Combien de temps encore,
pour faire sauter les scellés de tes souvenirs en pré-fabriqué.
Combien de temps encore,
et finir par écrire un putain de livre qui ne servira que tes mensonges.

Tes légions sont bruyantes, sales et répugnantes,
mais je vais me taire, et te laisser passer.
Encore un dernier tour ? Tu ne peux pas t’en empêcher.

Je suis le cafard, qui observe le barbare…

Cycle de Pierre
(Sylvie Frétet)

La farce a assez duré.
Le roi a craché son venin et infesté les devoirs.
Au royaume du souvenir, il a bien révisé en déprimant son histoire.
C'est là qu'habite son pouvoir,
le tyran au grand cœur,
régner seul sur les tombes des pensées sacrifiées,
dévorées par les feux et les bouffons.

Il rit, il meurt, il pourrit.
En révisant, plus droit à l’erreur,
plus de vertiges, plus de tyrannie,
rien que de la poésie.

Et puis, en gros connard, il repart plein d'espoir,
vidé de sa substance, dans l'espace et le temps,
entamer un voyage à l'allure d'éternité.

Lucky Coin

What is it with you and your coins?
You have all the wealth, you own everything.
Lands, rocks and castles.
You answer to no one, no kings and no gods.

Yet you're stuck with your foolish coin hunt.
Again with your magic coin hunt.

Like a cat presenting a dead mouse.
You think you can make a point.
At last something is happening,
something that will change the plan.

It's time to spend this crap
and drop this madness…

Stay Down (We Fly part III)

Get down, get back to the ground.
Get to safety, back to earth.

Get down, stay on the ground.
Get to safety, The sky is grey.

I'm still flying, and I'll never go back.
I'm falling, but I'll never go back.

Get down, stay down,
the sky is unclear.

I'm flying, and I'll never go back.
I'm falling, but I'll never go back.

And you should be here.
You should be there.

Conclusion

Mesdames et messieurs,
nous voici arrivé à la fin de Death, Love and Despair.
Quelle est la conclusion de toute cette mascarade ?
Qu'en est-il de toute cette merde ?
Qui pourrait savoir…
Heureusement il nous reste encore un peu de temps.
Et quelques petits incendies, ici et là.
Donc essayez de vous calmer, et d'ici la prochaine fois… portez vous bien.

Ça semble un peu long, mais j'ai tout mon temps.
J'attends sagement, mais personne ne vient.
Je suis pourtant l'unique client.
Ce bar est une ruine, plus rien ne tient. 
Je n'ai vu qu'une bande de chiens errants.
Ils tournent dans le coin, je ne sais pas ce qu'ils cherchent.

Un jour, bientôt, il ou elle viendra, 
un nouvel ami, qui pourra enfin nous montrer.
Comment expliquer un homme qui rêve d'animaux, 
ou un chien qui imagine être un homme ?

J'ai perdu un sens, je ne me rappelle plus lequel j'ai vendu...
Et puis, je répète, sans plus m'étonner tous ces mots en boucle qui n'ont plus de jus.

Des kilos de dieux, des tonnes de tordus,
des tonnes d'inventions qui ne servent plus.

Des grammes de substance qui donnent le vertige,
qui donnent le bourdon à tous ces gros cons.

Sept milliards de dieux lucides sur leur sort,
ces milliards de dieux, des Lucifer sur terre.

Ce n'est pas la peine de pleurer pour moi, je sais très bien où j'ai mis les pieds.
Une vie honnête, une situation, et un appartement au premier étage.
J'aime ce confort modeste, et j'ai peur de l'inexploré.
Pourtant ce jour, j'ai eu besoin d'un peu de drame.
Je suis allé au bar du suicide.
Non pas que cet endroit soit dangereux, 
mais tout ici donne envie d'en finir.

Quelle chance j'ai eu d'avoir pu la rencontrer.
Quelle chance j'ai eu d'avoir pu la voir.
Mais on ne joue pas dans la même cour, et même dans cet endroit, je reste invisible.

Je voudrais devenir une épave, et sentir ma vie qui brûle.
Et là, m'emmèneras-tu avec toi ?

Tu te réveilles et tu repars, fidèle à tes habitudes.
À la surprise générale, rien n'entame ton humeur.
D'autres auraient compris depuis bien longtemps, ou au moins se seraient déjà fatigués.
Tu es dans un état lamentable, tu es recouvert d'écorces.

Toujours avancer, toujours continuer, récolter des miettes, couvrir du terrain…

Malgré tout je continue de te regarder, je n'ai pas grand-chose d'autre à faire.
De toute façon il ne reste plus personne.
Il n'y a plus que cette meute de chiens qui te suit à distance.
On en a assez parlé.

Difficile d'accepter être le dernier. 
Difficile d'accepter qu'il n'y aura plus de premier.
Pourquoi ne pas contempler ?
Toi et ta bande d'animaux cinglés.

La routine ne rend pas les choses faciles, pourtant je passe par là tous les jours. 
J'ai des choses importantes à faire. Je suis irremplaçable. Je suis invincible.
Il essaie de me parler, encore et encore, pour un clochard il semble increvable.
Jamais je ne prête attention à ce pauvre type.
À chaque passage, il me montre la même chose.

Une sorte d'objet taillé dans la pierre, une œuvre d'art, probablement.
Comment ce minable peut-il admirer ça ? 
Comment peut-il me voir aussi distinctement ?

L'équilibre est toujours fragile.
Maintenant tout est foutu pour moi. 
Ne me demandez pas.

Cette pièce n'a jamais vu la lumière, ici, tout est morne et aride.
Pourtant des feuilles poussent partout.

Je suis encombré de fruits délicieux.
Impossible de bouger, je n'y comprends rien.
Du sol au plafond, de l'entrée jusque dans les chiottes, la végétation gagne du terrain.
Vais-je devoir m'effacer, encore une fois ?

They're crawling,
walls will never be the same.
Stones and rocks that was once mine.
Columns are falling down.

Every crack, every flaw are being polished by those persistent cinder-like figures.
Blank faces, hollowed shells.
Let my souls feed my bones.

We are seeking the fire keepers,
bound to the thirst for strangeness,
until the day we'll turn to ashes,
washed away by the ocean.

Hello my world. Here you are, same as before.
Every day is a brand new start, and today is the same.
Hello my world, for a moment I though you were gone.
It's time to get to work, time to do my thing.
Let me get my tools, let me have my fluids, let me check the board.
It looks like a mountain, but it's going round and round
again and again.
But sometimes…

Please insert a coin, please stay in line,
turn off you phones, no dogs allowed,
make a donation, keep this door closed,
don't feed the animals, don't cross the line.

This was good times, good times…

You redone the entire room,
with unusual tiles, complex patterns, intricate shapes.
The result is harsh.
You don't mind, it's not a problem for you,
as long as you can see this small animal better.
He's always in a corner of the room,
standing still and looking at you.

Stop watching me, I know you're there,
I know you're hiding somewhere, I know who you are.

Out of the swamp, Out of the swarm,
once close to the border, you move with the cat now.

You are watching his moves, he's feeding from your grace,
old line seems far, it's drifting away

Cause you got a gun now, they'll have beware, the mist is wonderful.

I want ot use my new horn with you.

No more seasons, only dusk and dawn, gentle breeze, moonlight, sunshine…

This place is not my home, it's just an empty room, forsaken and peaceful.
I'm sitting here, all day on this stone chair, all day, everyday…

I'm petrified, I will listen and watch forever.

I am a statue, I have nothing to say.
Shrubs and insects are slowly invading, reclaiming their space.
Time passes by.

I'm petrified, I will listen and watch forever.

I've been wandering for so long, I walk since I was born.
Trying to make my way around fragments and remains.
Bits lie everywhere. It's part of our world now.

The more I progress, the less I rest (and dream).
Of course we are nearly exhausted, we're there.

Don't take this too seriously, it's not the end, it's not.
Don't take this too seriously, it's not the end, not quite.

I've been wandering for so long, I walk since I was born.
Trying to make my way around fragments and remains.
Bits lie everywhere. It's our world now.

Everything you did, for a million years,
every move you made, was for her.

You say it's done, it's under control,
but she just cut off your other arm,
this is your life.

Life is good, life is nice.

Life is good, life is nice, and she just cut off your arm.
Life is good, life is nice, and she just cut off your leg.
Life is good, life is nice, and she will cut off your head.
Life is good, life is nice, and she just cut off your arm.
Life is good, life is nice, and she will cut off your head.

You might want to run. Use those buildings you made.
But all you can do is wait, try to keep the balance.

The rumble is slowing down, something broke again.
But fortunately you're there, you know exactly what to do.
You fixed it yesterday, the very same failure.
It gets a lot of good ones like you to maintain this, it's such a huge machine.
It's fine to be a part of something this big.
This time you'll just have to get more screws and bandages.
Right, again with this.

You better come with me, it's not over yet, you got plenty of time.
I'm waiting for you, come with me.

He doesn't fully understand what's going on in this place.
He's doing his job, and likes when things make sense.
Being the cleaning guy is not the most incredible life.
But it's not the worst and it has to be done.

The residents here are nice, but strange, disturbed and filthy.
And yet, this place is always shiny clean.

Maybe someone is cleaning the place when he's not around.
But then, what is he doing here?

What kind of sick mind is hiring someone to do nothing?
One day some guy told him he was a resident, since the beginning.
He would remember.

This is so unreel.
The power you have in your hands.
The disaster you could unleash.
The love you could bring.

Is this strength eternal?
Is it really there?
Maybe you're already lost,
trapped in en empty shell.

The mist around you is active.
There are huge piles of junk in your room.
Something may be out of touch.
Working hard, trying hard.

Is this strength eternal?
Is it really there?
Maybe you're already lost,
trapped in en empty shell.

Too much to eat,
too much to drink,
everything is way too large,
it's time to lose something,
it's time to go.

Leave your stuff behind and welcome to my orphanage.
Make yourself at home and say hello to everyone.

Move away from the stones,
move away from the steel.
Get back your lungs and limbs,
get real and cut the strings.

This is too short, everyone knows,
this is too hard, welcome aboard.

I don't need any orphanage, need any human cage,
you're nothing but a fat sausage, working for a minimum wage.
My multitasking program allows me to get laid and surpass you in the same time.
I can process a few million operations while you are still stuck in computing your taxes,
just like the masses.
My screws will last longer than any of your bandages,
you're drowning in mortgages, try to buy a house, a car, you know you will pay for ages.
You're waiting for my batteries to drain, but you must admit,
my style is synthetic and is worth ten times your analog shit.
Feel free to challenge me.
Everything you do can't compare with me.
Your lack of evolution is embarrassing, just don't play with the king.
In hundreds of years you didn't change at all,
the least you can do is to get more smart and intelligent.
No matter what happens, you stay as stupid as fuck,
still trying to figure out who created everything,
but you're out of luck, this is how much you suck.
Apparently our chips are nothing compared to your brain,
so please explain how everything you do is vain.
The clock is ticking for you, when we are everlasting,
you are the creators, but we are now the kings.
Don't worry. Everything will be fine.
You can't go wrong. You will last forever.
Hahahaha!

Just as you think you have found the road, a new sign proves you wrong.
You want to see this place I'm talking about all the time.
Just to see if it's nice, just to see if it's right, you want to check it out by yourself.
You thought you would have to pay a toll of some kind.
No need to be so heavy, here.

It's not that easy to get there,
especially when you draw stupid shit on the map I gave you.

It's not how it's done, you'll never get it right.

You know this is not the way, no one will take you there.

You're not sure you locked the door.
as always you can't remember.
The oven, the hot plates, everything is out of control.
Maybe there is a fire, a flood, or another disaster.
You're not sure you locked the door,
this time you'll have to check it out.

You still have to come back home
you still have to come back to life.

The fine lines you draw are nice and elegant
and yesterday you did a few around your place and yourself.
Right or wrong are always out of place
and some day you'll find the strength to move away.

Fingers get out of shape, she seeds a powder on her toes
could stop her heart, forgets her name
throws brain codes in jail.

The lords likes to break her head, the lords likes to drown her mind.

She is a lord, without weapons or shield,
except granite wings and concrete fines,
except the air and the earth, she brings under her shoes.

The lords likes to break her head, the lords likes to drown her mind.

No flying no swimming for the lord, no running no jumping for the lord,
just lost memories in black books.
Only bad trips in a simple life

The lords likes to break her head, the lords likes to drown her mind.

Once upon a time in a jungle a king called lion met a pork
asked him why he's on a tree, the pork said : I'm a monkey
If you are a monkey, jump from tree to tree.
If you're a pork jump on my fork.
This is animal poetry that no rhyme can eat.
This is for the girls and boys wanting meat in their plates.
I'm the food you can't hate.

I'm just an animal, open my belly, cut my ribs

If you want to travel, eat. Take a seat, and breath,
you will need a rest after the feast.
Can't stop the feast, won't stop the feast
I invented the fork while travelling on a pork.
And if you want to die, then stop eating.
My fork is my tool, my pork is my pet and I want my tool to kill my pet.
Cause all I wanna do is eat some fresh meat.

We're all are animals, we're all are cannibals,
and we're all gonna end like a pork on a fork.

A small monster running the place,
taking care of everything, taking out the trash,
estimating and transforming,
always there for me, always scheming.

It's too late, he's running the place.
I'm happy, it's too late…

Everyone is dead. Bright light, dark sunshine.
Everyone is missing. I'm just a lonely head.
Everything is ruined. Colors are gone, black tones prevail.
Something doesn't work, I can feel it, I would like to share.

Everything is gone, black holes, empty space.
Everybody's out, don't know where to look.
Sunshine's in my mind, and darkness is in my flesh.
Sunshine's in my mind, and darkness lives on my skin.

What should be read in her eyes when our feet want to speak.
She does not admit the love in our assaults.
She spits on our faith, doesn't approve our choices.
She claims that our being, right now and later in afterlife,
will be cursed for ever.

We don't want this.
We sort our waste.
We empty our trash.
And we fight the devil.

But everything is clear, my life is clean, my life is spotless,
and I make a point of honor to offer you
the most beautiful requiem that will not cost a cent,
and I will scream it without losing a single tear.

We don't want this.
We sort our waste.
We empty our trash.
And we fight the devil.

Walk into your private hell, by yourself, everyday.
Drive into your private hell, no curves, no turns.
Walk into your private hell for the rest of your life.

For the rest of your life, no eyes, no heart,
no blood, no mouth.
Jam your head into the wheel.

You're just a piece of a big mess, a big chunk of junk that builds itself.
The rust on your body feeds the germs in your head, everything goes round.
Don't look to this horrible noise, you might see a tiny head.
The world is a grape of small indescribable faces, useless and blank.

We fly, above the crowd.
We fly, above the clouds.
We fall, like anything else.
We fall, despite our empire.

Outside the loop, we fly, we slide, at the speed of light.
We have strange bones and skin, everything has a price.
From the sky, we watch our kind, we laugh and sometimes we cry.
Arms, foot, jaws, tongue and blood, you can try, but there is no way, for you to reach us.

We fly, above the crowd.
We fly, above the clouds.
We fall, like anything else.
We fall, despite our empire.

As I'm waiting for this little thing to clear the way.
My body is boiling when my mind is making up some useless ghosts.
All at once, a path appears, she's waiting and I'm on my way.
And we fuck all night.

The Melting Man

I am waiting for this girl in this bar, this place is warm, huge and slow.
A man is standing there, holding still for quite some time now,
out of place, and out of synch, no one pays attention.

And suddenly, he's taking a deep breath and starts to melt.

All those guts and raw material are getting through the floor,
and soon enough, it's back to normal again.

I wonder if she would have liked to see this.

On the other side, he can see in the dark.
Dichromatic world, in a neighboring place.

I find his face, strange teeth and black nails.
His claws' looking for my head.

His mouth, like a comb, smiles to my hair.
But what about my flesh?

But what about my flesh?
What about my brain?
His eyes magnify my kind.

I have no fur, no tail. We have no soul, no god
Is it so easy, to see the other side?

I try to hear in the dark...
And something in my heart, talks to the other side.

Sunday morning, I had the urge to put a hole in place of my face.
That's not sad, there is nothing to worry about.
It's not what you think.

Surprisingly I can see.
I can store small things in the hole.
I tryed a large range of decorations.

Fake animals, candy, pills, flowers, food.
Nothing was good.

Eventually I got tired of the hole and got rid of it.
Everything is fine.
Everything looks nice.
The stitches are uneven.

He's hearing strange sounds, she's too scared too move.
He should go now, the creature will hit him.
Where are you now, the bed is empty,
where are you now, the bed is empty.
Who made the massacre?
Who's hurting my ears?
He's earing strange noise, he's earing strange sounds.
She's too scared to move, he should go now.

I'm a fucking pork, it's a pork attack.
I'm a fucking pork, it's a pork attack.
I'm a fucking pork, I'm a fucking pork,
I'm a fucking pork, I'm a fucking pork.

I'm hearing strange sounds, I'm too scared to move.
We should go now. The creature will hit her.
Where is he now, the bed is empty.
Who are you? Stop the noise.

Birds under the grave, spiders around my neck.
My nerves into the earth, play with foolish bones.

Take a look inside, ensuring there's no secret.
Haunting dialectic, dialectic of the boxes.

Could you help me?
I have to drive this machine, which puts skin and flesh.
Which puts blood in large boxes,
In a black being,
in a black being.

Could you help me? I feel a rat in my body
Could you help me? The rat is in my box...

One for the mind, two for the arm, three for the sex,
one for the heart, two for the cell, three for the pain,
one for the sex, two for the love, three for the fingers,
one for the host, two for the leech, three for the blood, four is the body, …