Music won\'t save me
from my dissociated sphere.
But I don\'t want to be saved
to sing like a fool in the rain
and see me convicted
in the name of universal love ...
I am merely an acrobat of chance
dancing o the roof of a bipolar rainbow
and painting melancholy night comedies...
A hangman\'s rope on a beat-up guitar .
It\'s Mozart who is being murdered
and Lennon won\'t be coming back ...
I can\'t imagine .
My machine broke down in a time bubble
between Ibiza and a summer love ...
I didn\'t fill up your patchouli enough .
Hippie lost in a Walmart aisle
shouting at people on the escalator
slogans for midgets knit in a bowl
of lucky warm porridge ...
In this cynical world ,naivety is subversive !
I am the last Dadaist ,sanctified ,
A scratched record from the 70s
stuck in my head ...
Mandatory happiness
in the back of the monospace !
When the great orchestrator
stops the tragedy ,
everyone rushes to the coffin
in the joyous echo of a hope-for death .
I can\'t imagine ...
On the gibbet of insanities
well rise up proud iconoclasts !
A genderless executioner
rekindling the flame of the worldliness !
At Altamont ,I\'ll palm
this damn machine off an angel
and in a prodigious trip ,
I would fall asleep in psychiatry
until the next century
where life will be even worse
sprawled out on the pink sofa...
Darling,I gona to bump you off ,
I don\'t want to leave alone ...
But this will not amuse poets
whose verses have the architecture
of some tasteless clichés...
I no longer believe in cubist mirage.
Can you imagine that ?