We are all born but we all die alone
Even though we are looking for something to have in common
The things I do just put me off
I am tired of staring at the ceiling, I am seeking for the sky
My whole life has been a contradiction, we are pieces of the same composition
We are procrastinating. Decomposition
The explanation might be in the arts
None can bear this, none can bear me
My problem with human relationships
Is that I have quit giving and accepting promises
I am not reaching out to anyone
I talk to myself inside my head, everything is planned
But the thing I cannot control now
Is that I always wanted to control every thing
And I just can't change it
I live in my own controlled microworld
I collect information and experience
I will step back if I step in the right conditions
If I get tired of waiting, looking for causes
Anger fires up through failures.

There can only be peace after war
War is always between brothers
My brothers doubt me since they know me so well
Back then, they were already wary of my quirks
Being weird, light in my darkness
For fifteen years, my beacon, my landmark
30100 Cedex, suicidal Cévennes
Drugs and skate 24/7, always a binary choice
“Everything’s fine” as a scarification
Phone ringing, counseling appointment
Unstable teenager
We bury ourselves with lies
Family doesn’t know, doesn’t see
The child doesn't communicate
The divide grows, trust is lost
Denial settles in, respect dies out
Conflict creeps up, escaping becomes vital
Squatting vacant lots and downtown bus shelters
Robbing private properties, smuggling stuff in flea markets
Rapping and tagging like all the dickheads of your crew
Pulling some tricks every day, you can see us at the back of the circus
My life is a paradox, I’m not consistent
For years it was my weakness, now it’s my strength
I quit pot, pot took me back
All my dreams are scaring me
Even sleep has a price

We experienced so many setbacks
Our rage is the stuff of revolutions
Every day we live in failure
from sweet adolescence to debacle
We experienced so many setbacks
Our rage is the stuff of revolutions
We used to dream over our school desks
now we are having nightmares, from depression to mania

Dyslexic rap, fuck your therapy
I’m no schizo, I’m Robert Deniro in his cab
Scarred deeply inside since I was a child
living now with post-traumatic stress disorder
Heavy thoughts when I step back
“Stay on top”, my ass, bullshit is piling up
Stuff has been accumulating in my head
Enough to make me sabotage myself again
As usual, mom never complains
Family in crisis just like the job market
I am a product of my own environment
Me, the worst and most miserable enemy of mine
Every evening there’s pressure from work
There are those who have no job and all those who’re fed up with it
I am wondering what am I still doing here
Caged, having nothing to hold on to