What am I really…?
The fool you see…?
Delirious, crazy…?
Lost soul, empty…?
Never part of this conspiracy
Death is always watching over me
Blood, stained soul, dark thoughts…
Dispersion…?
Hardly…Follow me deep down
A comedian, a clown
Distant, vaguely waving
Frail shadow of a distant morning
I plead evolution instead of this funny fair they’ve danced to.
What do I know, fatality… death
Am I waiting for the grand finale?
The attended oblivion?
The enemy is waiting,
Rotting, suffering,
Putrid, eternal;
Burning with vitality,
Yet unmoving…
What am I saying …?
You are all so beautiful…
My children

The picture freeze on the city,
A plot of pain and jealousy.
A puppet cries, melancholy,
Of living hell: reality.

As the puppet dances, the killer sees
The strings that keeps his sanity
The villain waves a lethal blows,
It’s witching hour, time for the show.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well here comes Eugene,
Walking down the alley,
With booze as blood
And his coming death as trendy;

He feels the whole story’s
Been dumped on him,
All torn and shred,
A vicious black comedy;

And I feel sorry,
The guy had dreams you see.
It’s come to this:
Poor old Eugene is you or me.

Dread.
Dead as I said.
She bit me…wicked witch,
Eyes numb with experience.
Hissing reptilian hairs,
She finally tricked me into her bridal dance.
I had to know, sad beyond recognition,
No hopes whatsoever.
The flame was gone but I still was there.
She came dressed as a nightmare
I had to see trough the mist she wore
I’d met her somewhere before,
I could tell.
Mean…sexy…

I don’t know what happened you see,
Time has buried the real me.
Twisted by dreams of mythology:
An armoured knight in his righteous fury.

I’ve cried and I’ve pleaded
For signs from above
And all I’ve been bestowed with
Was the devil’s love.

It seem that when I came this way,
I really had in mind some part to play,
But constant opposition have had me,
They can come and take me, I’m ready.

I don’t know what happened you see,
I really thought I’d make it but it isn’t that easy:
Alone, wrestling the enemy;
My path it was clear but it is getting blurry.

Life is so wonderful,
A rainbowful of dreams,
And death is not so unpleasant,
An end so full of tears.

Reach out for the top,
It’s all I gotta scream,
And join in our legion
Before the night of fear.

Dancing with Siva, I know I am blind,
People tells it to me all the time.
Self-made armour, my private shell;
They warned me this detour might lead to hell.

Cushioned velvet on the inside,
Casual comfort, to dim the shine.
Well…let’s just waste these teenage years
Sit in front of the TV and have a beer

And we’ll go out on Friday night
Drinking and driving everything in sight
And as the years get older
We’ll get unto a different matter

Freebase, dragon-chase:
A lethal phrase, the twelve gauge case.
A deadly game, go insane,
High on cocaine to dim the pain.

Go get wasted, vein line stiffened,
Perforated, desolated.
Such a nice boy he was, what a shame…
His father was just the same.

Go rob a bank, scheme a prank,
Cross the border with dope in the gas tank.
Make a crime and then do time:
Ten years prime to loop the rhyme.

Still dancing with Siva and I’m feeling fine;
Ten years of prison wouldn’t change my mind.
The fire is still burning and I’m still running,
A hundred miles past pack a Glock, and I’m gunning.

Not giving but taking, that’s what I’m learning,
What I got to keep on doing In order to keep on living.
But the streets is worst than ever before
with all the young hustlers gearing up for war.

Cellular phones, FAX machines,
radio waves, electricity:
a man-made nervous system
of organic complexity.
Bricks and cement, chimneys,
and carbon units, tiny,
structure and life-force
of this growing and breathing atrocity.
The working force, bones and muscles,
in psycho-sexual captivity,
provide the strength, aimed by others
toward worldwide sterility.
Bankers and stockbrokers,
in monstrous voracity,
decide the needs of consumers
who watches their TV.
Contractors and builders,
in diesel motricity,
construct and expand
their beehive city.

Part 2

Anaesthetized soul,
the new death of me.
Ravaged and plundered,
dreaming of a blue city.
Wonder who its gonna be,
you or me ?
So for now it’s all concrete,
tainted glass and putrid power schemes,
and the fossil fuelled monsters,
speeding forth to oblivion,
roaming shadowy ill smelling streets,
and the gutter dwelling mutants,
flesh of the Undercity,
prays to our subhuman leaders,
flashing on prime-time TV.

Epilogue

Pounding rhythms, echoing beats
and the fading hope of a dying dream.
The ancient memory
of bygone joys and feasts,
from which we were led away
according to this monstrous scheme.
We really could have made it
to this fabled city,
if we were only smart enough
to outrun our own stupidity.
A sensual palace of heavenly weedling,
a universal romance, a perpetual well being;
the celestial temple, heralded by the few,
the awaited completion of the cycle we knew,
the twilight of an age of torment and fury,
but we’re all still in hell as far as I can see.

A deadly game, go insane,
Clear the lane of this mind frame;
Time then becomes strange,
Unfamiliar and deranged.
Mythical deconstruction,
Musical Armageddon;
Meta-democratic conviction,
To dissolve the chains of oppression.
Mind fuck, your luck,
Trade your Glock for a grade « A » block.
A media assassin, driven by an obsession
To hack into your television.
Doctor Leary tell me more
About this neuro-genetic war.
The ghost of Hollywood
Torments the fading star,
And this lingering saxophone mood,
Mesmerizing you wherever you are.
The golden gallery, soul of a dead city,
Animated by a ghoulish pulsion
To consummate its remaining portion.

I can’t even begin to say, Alone as always.
Useless words, obsolete stage-play: My ever-recurrent way.

Please don’t mind the attitude, But I think you have to know:
Blistered soul, fragmented picture, This everlasting show.

The time has come for the waiting man to step out of the shadows;
You laughed and mocked me, all the time, but now just watch me go.

1.2.3, on a rhyming spree, It’s the N.A.Z.Z.K.A.T.
Out of Cyberspace, at a hectic pace, We’ll obliterate as an act of faith.

2000 A.D.: what I was meant to be, The smooth operator, the liberator.
A modern Socrates for the end of the 90’s, The end of this ongoing barbary.

A miracle a day, Isn’t that good enough for you ?
Tomorrow I’ll start walking on water And maybe raise a dead or two.

Stranded on death row, Two thousand years ago,
And I’m still around you see, rhyming on your celly

Breaking down the hold they got On your fucking brain:
Television, a golden prison, Breeding the insane.

It’s a holy war with freedom at stake, and I don’t know if you got what it takes.
The electric deity, I’ll give you a break; I’ll take on command, piece of cake.

I’ll show you what this world could be, But after that, it’s your turn you see ?

Psychedelic minister of youth. Let me help you see the truth.
Insane lyrics, monstrous, delirict, right to the top, the ultimate.

We’ll beat your mind, get you from behind. I tell you this time, we’ll do just fine.

Purification, mind operation. Verbal scalpel, the thought, the spell.
I get inside your head. Crowded with what you saw or read.

Resistance, the old order, Crumbling down: a fallen tower.
Intellectual guerrilla, we’ll get to ya….

C’était a minuit, un soir de mai
au coin de Laurier pis Garnier
Un vieil étranger m’a parlé
cette soirée ma vie a changé

Ma vieille guitare s’est réveillée
moi qui la grattait depuis des années
pis moi je me suis mis a chanter
des mi, des sol, des la des ré.

Au coin de Laurier pis Garnier
ma vie a changé

Les succès se sont multiplié
Les albums et pi les tournées,
tout les regards étaient sur moi
Les femmes se jetaient a mes pieds

Pi un soir, comme ça, je l’ai recroisé
de mes réussites, il m’a félicité
Il m’a dit  : t’a eu tout ce que tu a désiré
mais la , mon gars, c’est l’heure d’y aller

Now hear the Tale
of Sam the Gentle.
Ostracized, his life
was in shambles.

He rolled up his sleeves
and faced his troubles.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.

Fighting alongside
the Omega People,
he converted fiends
and won all the battles.

He rose to the challenge
b’fore our eyes bedazzled.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.

Now people take heed,
as the drama unravels,
the hero victorious
as the C.H.A.I.R. is dismantled.

He defeated the villains
and he conquered the damsel.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.
He put on the mantle
and became a symbol.

Now if you too feel lost
in the shambled ramble,
put up the tights and
get ready to rumble.

There are no problems
that are to hard to handle.
Put on a mantle
and become a symbol.
Put on a mantle
and become a symbol.