New armchair, soon coffin;
New show, new issues?
The puppets are preparing to enter the scene.
The majorettes stop at the staging.

This television will not form my vision.
I pay too much attention to their mission.
This futility appears to me as stupidity,
It’s a banality so calculated.

The invisible threads are visible to me,
The sons, one visible, are unutterable to them.
Invincible is this reality for such an agile wine.
My gospel is falsified and so gracile.

Their mischievous stakes move me
But I remain serious.
Entertainment expands,
Deceive, fascinates me,
But takes strange turns.

On the walls: advertisements, money, whores.
Clubs, moons, struggles persist.
Blood on the walls. Immure your fears,
You’re frightening by quietly
Whispering to the people your kind censures.

Endure the test, the proofs are sure.
For sure, in evil,
You’re just designed to stop thinking.
Heal, thoughts, I don’t think anymore
About advertisements, money, whores.