I have seen
People of my age go away
Along the roads that never lead to anything
Searching for the dream that leads to madness
In the search for something they can't find
In the world they already have, in the nights soaked by wine
Along the roads transformed by pills
Inside the smoke clouds of the world made of cities
Being against swallowing our tired civilization
And a god who is dead
On the edges of the roads, god is dead
In the cars bought on installment, god is dead
In the myths of summer, god is dead

They told me
That this generation of mine no longer believes
In what they often masked with faith
In the eternal myths of the homeland or the hero
Because the time has come to deny
Everything that is falsehood, the faiths made of habit and fear
A politics that is only about making a career
The interested respectability, the dignity made of emptiness
The hypocrisy of those who are always right and never wrong
And a god who is dead
In the extermination camps, god is dead
With the myths of the race, god is dead
With the hatreds of the party, god is dead

But I think
That this generation of mine is prepared
For a new world and a newly born hope
For a future that is already in hand
For a revolt without weapons
Because we all now know
That if god dies, it's for three days and then he rises again
In what we believe, god has risen
In what we want, god has risen
In the world we will make, god has risen

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