Once a man built a large and grotesque wall
Of cracked stones, dead hopes and bruised limbs
He wanted it to protect himself against a deep growl
Of a storm carrying remorse and memories of sins
Below the faded sun, he spent his entire lifetime
In hiding from any truth, in masking his crime
In an attempt to castrate his already sexless flesh,
Blindly fleeing from any recollection of thresh

Thus this pathetic living corpse was joined
By other insipid souls in this work for them purloined
And generations massively adopted the habit
Instituted by this mad man drowning in his vomit
Gathered they were, each saying no to life
With such ignorance, overabundant and rife,
But still firmly meaning what they could only ignore
Chained themselves under a sky to love and implore

But what can he, who has not pierced eyes, do
When he discovers such a wretched view:
Impotent armies of degenerated and naked warriors
Brandishing a banner where it is with gold thread knitted "ERROR"

There were so many of them at the bottom of the wall
That even in one hundred years you couldn't count them all
Though weak, their number was doing that one man alone
Couldn't make them fall and destroy their throne

Giving up all phantasms of grandeur, there is no boiling war to be declared;
Just frozen and wild fancies, orgasmic visions of excruciated traitors immolated
Glaring at nothing but my own rage, feeding from my overwhelming hate
Without melancholy but fury, I collapse in my engrieved fate
Of the two available roads one leads to starvation, and the other one to prostitution
The first one embraced me, as I choose death and self-abnegation
Now the memories of their distorted faces is slowly fading away,
Even refusing to follow me as I sink into merciless dismay