Balance, everything is a matter of balance
Finding the balance above the void
I have a headache, my brain is smoking with rage and I have a headache
Too fragile, the balance breaks in the hands of Men
Dancing on the wire like tightrope walkers
The alarm rings, biped has trouble digesting the apple

I recognize fools in a parliament
I recognize the lack of discernment
I recognize the human in his renunciations
You will know the smell of these punishments
The Earth no longer nourishes Men in its womb
The mother no longer smiles with endless love
Applaud all the banks to praise them
Yet the future is at a standstill for sensible people
I recognize the flames of past abuses
Yes, I recognize the tears of the sacred sin
The day is still red on our damnations
Our cheeks are always virgin from the after punishment
I lost all my brothers in their complacency
Politics feeds on their allegiance
I recognize my own when the fury falls
The bandits emancipate themselves in the game of shadows, dark

I recognize my marks on my body, the weight of my absences in the face of gold
I will go alone, alone, alone in the calm
Stifle these impulses that play with my soul
I hear the devil screaming when I sleep
I glimpse all the flaws when I go out
Out of breath, I sank, I shed all my tears

I recognize the shape of fear on the march
I recognize the weapons of our oligarchs
Stir up the extremes as an evidence
And have our echoes drawn from their arrogance, it's done
I recognize the dodge and the pretenses
I know the drifts of these white men
I recognize the absurdity of our west
Empty all the basements until exhaustion
The faceless market has corrupted us
Evil stares at us, an unknown fear
I recognize the blood on our tombstones
Yes, I recognize the tears of the great capital
The belly is still warm from the monstrous beast
The absurd prophecy of the great Paris World
I leave the mic to my dark thoughts
Yes, I leave the mic to my dark thoughts (dark thoughts, dark thoughts)

I recognize my marks on my body, the weight of my absences in the face of gold
I recognize my marks on my body, the weight of my absences in the face of gold
I will spend my future repairing things
I will spend years healing my neuroses
I have a headache
My brain is smoking with rage and I have a headache

Too fragile, the balance breaks in the hands of Men
Dancing on the wire like tightrope walkers
The alarm rings, biped has trouble digesting the apple
Too fragile, the balance breaks in the hands of Men
Dancing on the wire
I have a headache, my brain is smoking with rage and I have a headache

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