Music is a gun loaded with future

Under a white sky condemned to be a still presence
Music is a gun loaded with future it’s a bloody cloud, it’s a clear promise,
A blow shot in the middle of the breast,
Music is a gun loaded with future. It’s a shining fist.

Blood is spilling over the chords, from wounded wrists by sharp ice. Throats grasped by the great cold, the grooves of a dirty vinyl.
Scream as you can, music is a gun loaded with future!
Burn as long as you can, until the end of the world.

It’s a Molotov made with cries, thrown from a sideral hand
Over the people busy in christmas shopping.
It’s something written with red spray and evanescent borders
Music is blood that you have in your veins.
It’s a desperate fight !

Take a holed cloth and a neck made of glass,
Pour petrol until ¾,
Then a broad gesture ploughs the clear sky
Just a row, a target, a look and a fire that change…