Palmyra - Rome, Laure Le Prunenec, Rïcïnn

Sin upon our ears, minds bewitched

We go step away from deaf complaints

Let’s descend to hell, slowly

Through the reeking darkness, slowly

Bring the meats, the wine, the vultures and the snakes

The disgusting heroes are our allies

But you don’t have the smell of priests

You don’t have the smell

Happy is the one who can get into the serene fields

The one who can prtend to a intemporal perfum

Shiver at medium heat, at a thousand christian names

Bad odeur nearby the incredulous that made the faithful stagger in their faith

But you don’t have the smell of the law

You don’t have the smell

She doesn’t loudly shouts, nor gestures, the nation of debris

She dreams of scaffold under the sun that remains

And we play with the wind around the guillotines

That would revive the hatred in your chest

You that spread suffering alike a divine cure

But you don’t have the smell of the priest

You don’t have the smell

Invited at the eternal feast, save me a spot in the legions of the poet

And you shiver, you throb, my angel, my favorite beast

Go ahead, raise your pious arms, facing people’s anger

Under the lost temples of the antique palmyra

But you don’t have the smell of the martyr

You don’t have the smell

Under the vultures' gaze, bring the meats, the wines

In the lost temples of the antique palmyra

But you don’t have the smell of the empire

You don’t have the smell

Last words: all starts in mysticism, and ends in politics