The scrofula that time rejects    
 at the horn of africa    
 have the attraction of concrete recommendations    
 which Arthur hired.        
  
 More hitch built for the future    
 no more identity withdrawal on its square meadow    
 there is this strange house known    
 bringing together beings on the margins of principles.        
  
 Everything spins in the maelstrom    
 the drowned are neither alike nor assembled    
 among the debris where the barrel floats    
 for the Unique Man of the Species.        
  
 Some are sucked down    
 others serve as a lifeline    
 so that the world becomes a kingdom    
 From bad to worse according to the curvature of Time.        
  
 Ecology is pushed    
 in the excavations of the romantic tradition    
 Ecology no longer tows    
 out of the madness visited by the political concert.        
  
 Also I took over the trade of yesteryear    
 behind Ecology and social injustice    
 to juggle between Nature and human interests    
 because in the paradise of militancy all the wolves are gray.        
  
 Between liberalism and withdrawal    
 I broke in    
 and rocked the front line    
 left / Right loaded with affects.        
  
 Georges veered    
 by mental decoction    
 where everything was allowed    
 have the honor.        
  
 At the bottom of the forge    
 let's break away from the regression    
 whose songs of betrayal and abandonment    
 culminate in reaction.        
  
 I set up my stall at the Christmas market    
 to spot negotiations and shift interests   
 between the fugitives of the Global    
 and refugees from the Local.        
  
 The compass panics in this reorientation    
 and there is no martial attitude    
 but rather questions of shapes and weight of the world    
 in order to reconstitute the magnetic mass.        
  
 To fail to blend in with our Values    
 where a paternal belonging    
 without uprooting or "back to earth"    
 will allow the "back to earth" areas to defend.        
  
  
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