CORRIGER LES PAROLES

Paroles : Apollo Beneath The Whip

The simple slave
In sweat-soaked sheets
Aims his shackles
And cuts off his hands

The simple slave
In smoggy pantheon
Aims for release
And cuts off his head

Apollo falls asleep behind the wheel
A scar reopens to a wound and pleads in a whimper for infection
And now this great dying beast, that I've chained round my neck
In a torrent of feathers, a face of paper cuts
Fragile tributaries of blood stain powder white wings
Framed and catalogued for collection

The simple slave
In fallow fields
Shrugs off his burden
And falls asleep