Être un Oiseau en novembre
Être un oiseau en novembre
In November, a bird being
swinging your wings to lose yourself
a damned soul like screaming in
absence of goodwill betrayal
Flying headstrong wildness in
emerging this journey in V of..
while waiting for the owl-harp...
to escape the oboes of escapades
Numerous to dictate me the way they are
(are they inevitably taking the right decision ?
Absolute follow is an obligation ?
Who is in absolute wrong ?)
— in my animal nature
well obligated I am —
the lighthouse is far...
Swinging your wings to lose yourself
this isn’t that I am not on the way of this !
At the end, The path of Life
often goes by goodwill betrayal
We need to hold their head
The decoy must be shown
(the equivalence of inter-terrestrial roofs
and beautiful winds on percussions)
a music of rare grounds
without i-dad, i-mad and...
Cut out ! ! Wings ! (Hey !)
over the wind our ears pain under
Strongs and sustained
follow by a mass motion!
Getting there new until you reach the lands
Win(t)er before Ordinary
of a kind not surviving there
to emanate from our broken ears before everything
going in time even all
going we bring you all
to manhandle for the wind /,,/
the fall is there entrancing of this winter
until summer of spring
a mechanical small life
of a nature in patterns full of order
robots predicted like
those must dream of
until you re-empty stuffed corpses