To hell with it!

Behind your walls, the religions protect all souls
In front of your doors, all policies cheat on your faith.
Snakes make you heave up the purity of the apple
The desert sand’s harmony has been split since to long time: 

Again the noise of the bombing powder rains down stones
Then as ants everyone of us bleeds peace on the side walk
And graves shame their time in the tears of all mothers.
Far away from the promise, is that red field the kingdom?

Weapons never drum the wisdom of human being's bones!
Why sadness is haunting the moon of the mountain's hopes!
Paradise is our hours! Let's share it with the water's courage.

If even the song had already sent out an S.O.S which is mine
My bottle is just a word without wings able to row my ache
But sting me with the olive branch and let’s fly to the real spring


Le Club est l'espace de libre expression des abonnés de Mediapart. Ses contenus n'engagent pas la rédaction.