like a flower, like the wind
my time burns against the ages,
pretty words hidden within
and we think that gOD is Great

hammer tilting in my hand and
some rusty nails in the pocket,
I will try to repair my heart that
stood against the countless slashes

lonely words rocking the graves
of all the crazy loves unwanted,
I smile, I nod, I wince, and I tried
to bring back all that was wasted

happy summers in my lovely youth,
but now all is washed by the river,
and we all try to wish that we stood
against the scarecrows of our fields

endless clock ticking time away
of memories long ago forgotten,
we see its hands waiting at bay
but who the hell cares, who?

this existence decapitating us slowly
and even monsieur Guillotin is silent,
the history shows us that we cannot
win anything.

please ask,
Hannibal, Hitler and
Casanova.