time to rise    

Here where revolution claims imminent need
Filled with weak people afraid to do this deed
No artists who create silent eternities anymore
The "počtes maudits" have become memory bore

Blind souls daily in a surrealism of absinthe
New dawn awakes without yesterday's instinct
A man without floor, window, water or bed
Prefers life outside to commercial death

These modern times long here and far ahead
Bring us they will not joy nor wanted freedom
For here honesty is considered hollow and flat

Blood is spilled often and never too seldom
Since the incrimination of Marie Antoinette
Only in heart and mind do we find our kingdom